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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700622">Escape to HighTower</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odessa_Moon/pseuds/Odessa_Moon'>Odessa_Moon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Steppes of Mars [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Don't copy to another site, F/M, Life on Mars - Freeform, No beta we die like authors, Rating May Change, Runaway Bride, Terraforming, escaping an unwanted arranged marriage, life in a domed city, pebbles in ponds making waves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 05:40:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>180,467</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odessa_Moon/pseuds/Odessa_Moon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Lannie and Fen are traveling up the Corridor. Neither of them know who the other person truly is or what they are capable of.</p><p>Searching for Lannie are a host of people; some who wish her well, some who want only to recover the Pearls of Orlov, and some with more sinister motives.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Steppes of Mars [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1306754</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I have a confession to make. Please don’t be angry.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>apologies for the late posting -- the IT department (i.e: me) was sick</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jennet studied her reflection in the orderly stockroom’s mirror. As always, she looked perfect and ready to represent the Martian Postal Service to a hypercritical, yet slovenly public. Crisply ironed uniform, all her brass shining, shoes polished, her hair smartly styled, cosmetics deftly applied, her nails buffed to a glow, her nametag straight. Every hair was in place along with her rings.</p><p>Nine of them.</p><p>She no longer wore the beautiful pearl ring the raggedy girl had sold her days ago. The waystation post office had been busy after the raggedy girl left. That ring had excited comment from every single person who saw it from the moment she’d slipped it on her finger. It hadn’t taken long to figure out that this was a ring she needed to be careful about.</p><p>The gorgeous pearl ring didn’t fit as well as it should and she had quickly wound string around the band to make it fit better because she didn’t want to lose it. Comments throughout the rest of the day showed that she didn’t want to save up coin to take it to the jeweler to have it resized.</p><p>It was the most beautiful ring she had ever seen and she could examine it for hours. It put all her other jewelry to shame, along with her clothes, her accessories, and her well-organized, immaculate bedroom in the house she shared with her messy extended family.</p><p>She could not trust them around the pearl ring.</p><p>The ring and the pointed, longing, jealous comments it excited spoke an unwelcome truth. The raggedy girl had stolen it. She was too stupid to know what she had, but she was smart enough to know she needed to get rid of it right away. That led to the question of what had been in the little box the raggedy girl mailed to her brother, Charlton DelFino, bastard son of some entitled DelFino who took advantage of their unlucky mother.</p><p>If the pearls were fake like the raggedy girl claimed, then they were the best fakes she’d ever heard of, fakes good enough to be mounted on what was real gold. No one mounted cheap painted glass on real gold. The ring might have been stolen from DelFino since that raggedy girl in the oversize coverall had relatives in DelFino. Only ristos like those double-damned DelFinos or rich merchants could afford a ring like this one. It demonstrated how stupid the raggedy girl was, mailing anything — more stolen goods? — back to where the ring had been stolen from.</p><p>Jennet patted her chest, feeling the ring nestled safely between her breasts, hanging from a fine gold chain, a chain that until now had been her most valuable piece of jewelry. Her fiancé had given her the chain at the Spring Equinox gathering to symbolize how they would be bound together forever once they married during Winter Solstice at the end of the year.</p><p>Manco didn’t know she had the pearl ring and, Jennet mused, she didn’t know if she would tell him about it, any more than she wanted to tell her family. Everyone who saw it openly wanted it. That was why she hid the ring at the end of her first day possessing it and she now wore the ring on his chain around her neck, making sure no one knew it existed but her. Her and every customer who had come through the post office after the raggedy girl left on that otherwise very normal, dull day. They were transients so they didn’t count. It was a lucky day for her, made luckier that none of the residents of Merreth needed to use post office services after the raggedy girl came through.</p><p>The ring was so beautiful and the pearls were real even if the raggedy girl in the oversize coverall with the ripped-up pants legs said they weren’t. That stupid girl didn’t know what she had because if she did, she would have waited until she got into Merreth proper and found the jeweler and gotten paid real money.</p><p>Stolen goods or not, the jeweler in Merreth would have bought the ring and promptly broken it apart, sold the pearls one by one, and melted down the gold. No one would have ever known what happened to the most beautiful piece of jewelry Jennet had ever seen. The jeweler in Merreth would have been thrilled to take the risk. He would have paid the raggedy girl next to nothing and made a huge profit.</p><p>Jennet patted the ring again. She would never desecrate the lustrous pearls by separating them from their fellows. They belonged together and they belonged to her even if she could never show them to anyone. Clouds lit from behind by the sun, the way the moons shimmered as they raced across the sky, the white of a swan’s feather drifting in the wind, stars glittering in the night, and the four pearls further enhanced by the gold hoop of sunshine they rested upon. Hers, but only if no one knew.</p><p>She loved Manco enough to marry him, but did she trust him enough to tell him about the pearl ring? It was a puzzle she hadn’t solved and so the ring remained hidden, even from him. She certainly couldn’t tell her family, her friends, or her coworkers; the ring would vanish instantly based on how greedy everyone who had seen the ring behaved.</p><p>As long as she didn’t tell anyone else or wear the ring openly, Manco would never know and neither would anyone else. It wasn’t like whoever that raggedy girl stole the pearl ring from would come marching into the Merreth waystation post office and demand it back.</p><p>And if by chance they did, she had her answers ready.</p>
<hr/><p>Fen worriedly recounted the coin he was carrying; the coin he’d brought with him from HighTower and not spent in Barsoom plus the coin he’d won from those damned bandits outside of Krangland. The bandits had done terrible things and the survivors of the fight deserved their painful, lingering deaths out on the steppes with the ants and the flies. They’d poisoned the well and Krangland’s men, horses, and dogs. They’d shamefully used and abused their captive women. They would have murdered those travelers they were trying to waylay, except for the women and girls who would have quickly wished they’d been slaughtered along with their men. But even so, their horrible crimes had been a lucky thing for him, because it meant he had some money to buy Lannie boots.</p><p>She needed them desperately. Her coverall legs, well-made of sturdy fabric, had worn into rags protecting her feet as they healed. He watched her as she stood in the tall grass by the rock outcropping, rolled-up ragged cuffs and barefoot, gently coaxing burrs from Coppertail’s tail in the last dying rays of the sun. Lannie couldn’t travel barefoot on the Pole-To-Pole corridor road. The filthy, shit-caked gravel would rip up her newly healed feet and she’d get blood poisoning for sure.</p><p>He’d been lucky there too. She hadn’t gotten sick from the blisters worn into her feet from walking in those too-big stolen boots. Lannie had to have stolen them even if she hadn’t directly said so. They didn’t come close to fitting her. Those damned DelFinos had kept her naked and she had done what she had to do to escape, stealing the coverall along with the clumping boots even if she wouldn’t talk about it. She didn’t have to. The answer was plain enough. He wouldn’t have believed he’d ever forgive a thief but he forgave Lannie for her theft.</p><p>What else was she supposed to do? She had done what she must. Bravely and at risk to herself and she hadn’t ever complained or whined to him about how she’d been treated or how she hurt.</p><p>Pretty, brave, determined Lannie with her big brown eyes and her shy smile and her long dark hair in braids down her back letting men who were not her lover see how long her hair was. It was strange. She knew how to ride and not too badly for someone who wasn’t from the Ennaretee yet until today, she’d never removed burrs from a horse’s tail or groomed one. She knew how to hand-feed Coppertail, holding her hand flat and letting his gelding lip up a choice bit of grass, yet she didn’t know the first thing about putting on a saddle.</p><p>Fen frowned and dismissed those irritating concerns as unimportant. What was important was they were approaching Weer. According to the last waystation map and what he remembered from the trip down, Weer was larger than a village like Merreth. It straddled the crossroads of the Pole-To-Pole Corridor and the 5° Latitude East-West Corridor so the town was of moderate importance to the region. That meant it had to support at least one general store. He’d bypassed it, as he’d bypassed all the towns on his trip down to Barsoom and didn’t know.</p><p>They would find out.</p><p>He should have bought Lannie boots in Merreth a few days ago but the tattered pants legs were still holding together and so he’d waited and now, he couldn’t wait any longer. Certainly not until they got to Eljinn, a major crossroads where the town was big enough to have several general stores. The only place Lannie could safely walk barefoot was out on the steppes and then only for short periods of time. The roads, whether gravel or dirt, in town or not, would tear up the soles of her feet again.</p><p>“All done,” Lannie chirped as she sat down beside him and the tiny fire. “He really is a sweetheart.”</p><p>“Yeah, he is,” Fen agreed, wishing that she was calling him sweetheart and not Coppertail. “Best horse I’ve ever owned.”</p><p>“He didn’t fuss at all, even when I must have pulled his mane a bit, getting out that knot.”</p><p>“He’s good about being groomed,” Fen said, wondering if he could ever ask Lannie to comb out his own hair and thread it with the beads he had earned so he could dance for her. In public. In front of everyone in HighTower and show how much he was coming to care about her. Members of his family didn’t always dance at the change of the seasons as their vassals did, but he would dance for Lannie. He would show her and everyone else how much he wanted her.</p><p>What would she say? She didn’t have any idea of how he felt or understand the customs of the Ennaretee. He could not speak such words to Lannie. He didn’t know if she would agree to come to HighTower and even if she did, his family would never accept her. He had to marry a woman with a dowry and connections and a penniless runaway like Lannie didn’t qualify.</p><p>One of his vassals would have the privilege of loving her and painful as the concept was, it was better than her dying alone in Northernmost, where she wanted to go.</p><p>Lannie studied the carefully sorted, tiny piles of coin on the ground by the campfire. The coins caught the last light of the dying sun, glinting as though they were real gold and not copper pennies. Fen had very little silver. She had no idea if there would be enough coin for him to buy her boots. It didn’t look like it, not based on what she remembered from shopping expeditions to Barsoom with her friends and cousins. She hadn’t often been able to spend the way she liked but even so, she’d always had more money than this.</p><p>She had nothing except the clothes on her back, the few pennies left from selling the ring for postal supplies, and the Pearls of Orlov jamming the pockets of her ragged-legged coveralls, stolen from the cathedral in Barsoom. Fen would hate her forever if he knew what a thief she was. He was so honest, so capable. He hadn’t once tried to harm her or take advantage of her. He hadn’t abandoned her when he’d seen her torn-up feet. He wasn’t any older than she was, yet he was becoming a man she could rely on and recently, she hadn’t had many of those in her life. Certainly not daddy, charming and amusing as Albion DelFino could be. Her father was the reason she was sitting out in the middle of nowhere with Fen and Coppertail as night came on and praying it wouldn’t rain hard. Her father and Rastislav, the daimyo of Orlov.</p><p>Fen was nothing like either of those two men, especially the horrible Rastislav. Old, raddled, paunchy, disgusting, debauched, and a man who was known to have abused his wives and murdered the last one. Fen would never harm her like Rastislav would.</p><p>She studied the coins again, trying to ignore the discomfort of rough ground, bits of rock, and prickling grass on tender new skin. There was no good place to set her feet. Fen insisted she needed boots and he was right.</p><p>“Will that be enough?” Lannie asked. “I don’t know how much boots cost.”</p><p>“You don’t? I was hoping you would, since you’re from Barsoom.”</p><p>“No, I don’t,” Lannie admitted. “I never had to.” The fancy boutiques and luxury department stores she had shopped at didn’t sell the kind of boots she saw everyone around them on the Corridor road wear, the kind that Fen wore, the kind she’d stolen from the cathedral. Their shoe selections consisted of fancy sandals to be admired.</p><p>She must have been a DelFino servant and not just another street girl, Fen thought. Servants got their uniforms and shoes as part of their salary whereas a street girl had to earn her own. A DelFino servant would be expected to speak as well as Lannie did. She had never sounded like the street girls he’d met in Barsoom. As a servant, Lannie wouldn’t have been permitted to say ‘no’ to anyone in DelFino.</p><p>He must think I’m completely useless, Lannie thought. How can I not know something as basic as what shoes cost?</p><p>“I guess we’ll find out in Weer,” Fen said. “We’ll think of something.”</p><p>Lannie considered the few pennies she had left from the sale of the ring. They wouldn’t be nearly enough and would involve admitting the sale of the ring and possibly mailing the package to her brother in DelFino. Fen wouldn’t believe her if she said she found money on the floor of the post office and he would despise her forever if he knew she was the sister of the man who beat him to a pulp.</p><p>That left the Pearls of Orlov and cutting up one of the bracelets as she had originally planned. Fen might accept her claiming she’d found a single pearl during her escape. A pearl should pay for boots. Then he wouldn’t have to spend his own coin. She had to have boots to get to Darnay with Fen.</p><p>More pearls might allow her to buy her way into HighTower, assuming Fen would want to help her when she kept proving her ignorance and uselessness. He was so responsible and thoughtful and no demesne wanted to accept deadweight when they all had enough deadweight within the family as it was. DelFino certainly had its share, starting with daddy and grandfather. She used to include her brother on that list, but events were proving that was daddy talking. It was clear how valuable Fen was to HighTower. They sent him on his own to Barsoom and expected him to come back. They trusted him to make the right decision for the demesne.</p><p>How many pearls would it take? Would it be more or less suspicious to dole them out one at a time or produce ten of them at once? Or the entire bracelet to be sure she was accepted? What would Ulla do? Not lie, that was for darn sure.</p><p>“Let me get the tea on while I think,” Fen said at last, breaking into her thoughts. “Maybe we could take a few days and earn some money in Weer. There’s always dirty work needing to be done. We’ll camp out in the steppes at night like we’ve been doing.”</p><p>Lannie’s eyes widened at his statement. The further away from Barsoom she got, the safer she would be. That postcard she had mailed to Charlton didn’t say where she was but that wasn’t a good reason to hang around DelFino’s lands. They would be passing alongside the demesne for weeks at the rate they were traveling. Invisibility was her friend and she didn’t dare to be seen and recognized, unlikely as that was in these ratty little towns that no one from DelFino would ever set foot in. Or Orlov, for that matter, and they had to be looking for her because of the Pearls.</p><p>“Would you excuse me for just a minute? And I’ll need your knife,” Lannie said in a rush, making herself make the decision.</p><p>“My knife?”</p><p>“To, uh, trim off the raggediest edges,” Lannie said quickly. “And I, um…” She let her voice trail away.</p><p>“Sure, of course,” Fen said and pulled his prized knife from his belt sheath, handing it to her, handle first. All this time together and Lannie was still shy about asking for something or embarrassed when she needed a moment of privacy. Those damned DelFinos. He would hate them forever for what they had done to her.</p><p>Lannie took his knife carefully. Fen kept it razor-sharp and she really did need to trim the worst of the ragged edges of her coverall legs. The weave was unraveling in strings, catching on weeds and rocks, and this was a chance to neaten them up. And she’d be able to cut a few pearls from one of the bracelets.</p><p>When she returned, Lannie sank down next to him and the tiny fire and said “I have a confession to make. Please don’t be angry.”</p><p>The sun was below the horizon but with the fire and twilight, there was still enough light for Fen to see her expression.</p><p>She was afraid.</p><p>“I will never be angry with you.”</p><p>Lannie looked more nervous and anxious. “You don’t like thieves.”</p><p>“I don’t. But Lannie, I want you to understand. I know you stole those boots and that coverall. They don’t fit you even the least bit and I know you wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t been desperate, yeah?”</p><p>She smiled weakly. “That’s true. I did steal them and I didn’t have much choice.”</p><p>He spread his hands reassuringly, wanting to hug her to him and feel her warmth.</p><p>“But there’s more.”</p><p>“Go on. It’s okay, I swear.”</p><p>Lannie took a deep breath, wishing she’d taken a few minutes to rehearse.</p><p>“I had to run. Orlov was going to hurt me. No one would help me.”</p><p>“I know that. DelFino too, from what you said.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Lannie muttered and frowned. “Them too. None of them cared.”</p><p>She couldn’t stop some tears, wishing it didn’t hurt so much, thinking of how daddy, mama, her brother, her cousins, and her daimyo were forcing her to marry Rastislav. None of them had cared one bit that she didn’t want any part of becoming the daimyah of Orlov.</p><p>“Anyways, I, I, this is so hard to say.”</p><p>“Tea? To wet your throat?”</p><p>She took his kuksa gratefully and sipped the mint tea. Such an odd name for a carved wooden cup but that’s what Fen said they were called.</p><p>“Thank you.” She gave him back the cup. “This is what I meant.”</p><p>She held out her hand, ten pearls in it. They caught the firelight and glowed as if lit from within.</p><p>Fen gaped at the pea-sized luminescent white beads in her palm. They shimmered like tiny balls of snow when held up to the sun, the rays illuminating the snow crystals.</p><p>“I stole them when I ran away. Pearls.”</p><p>“Those are pearls? I’ve never seen one.”</p><p>“Look closer.”</p><p>Fen picked up a pearl from Lannie’s palm. The touch of his fingertips on her skin was electric as always and he had to make himself study the pearl. It was a radiant, iridescent creamy white and didn’t resemble carved bone or a glass bead at all. It looked …. alive.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>Lannie nodded vigorously.</p><p>“You stole these?”</p><p>Lannie nodded again and the words spilled out. “They were so beautiful. I wanted them. I had nothing and I needed money and Orlov and DelFino have so much and I knew I would need money and so I stole these pearls when I ran away. They’ll kill me if they ever find me and no one can ever know that I stole these pearls and I’d rather die alone in a snowbank in Northernmost than ever go back to DelFino. Or Orlov.” She shuddered, gasped, and closed her mouth, wishing desperately she’d never said anything at all.</p><p>“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered and shut her eyes tightly against pain and fear and most of all so she didn’t have to see the disgust in Fen’s face when he realized she was just another common thief like the pickpocket they had encountered on the road on the way to Merreth.</p>
<hr/><p>“You want to do what?” Ottilie demanded.</p><p>“I’m cancelling tonight’s dinner with whoever you dredged up,” Ulla replied as she rapidly selected several days of practical clothing for Natha to pack.</p><p>“I understood that part, Ulla,” Ottilie said coldly and pursed her lips in open disapproval. “I do <em>not</em> understand why you need to rush off to Merreth this minute. Where is that anyways?”</p><p>“Merreth is a tiny free-village on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor road, heading north to Northernmost, about two hundred klicks from Barsoom,” Ulla said. “Lannie mailed Charlton a postcard from there. It’s where she was last seen. Zachery’s secretary has already made reservations for me and I need to leave within the hour to make my train.”</p><p>Ottilie thought this over for a moment.</p><p>“Ulla,” she said firmly. “I thought you were brighter than this. A postcard mailed by Lannie to Charlton and then him informing you would have taken two weeks minimum since none of these people have phones or skynet connections. If Lannie has any brain at all, she’s no longer in Merreth.”</p><p>“From the time of the postmark to now is ten days,” Ulla said. “Not two weeks. I’m leaving. I’ll marry Silas Avongale if that’s what it takes and why are you insisting on my meeting all those other young men when Silas and his family seem happy enough with me?”</p><p>Ottilie waved her hands, demanding Ulla’s full attention. “You don’t seem that interested in Silas Avongale. Marriage and children demand physical intimacies. Intimacy is easier for a woman when she has warm feelings towards the gentleman in question. Secondly, I am conducting damage control. Everyone in Barsoom heard about that disastrous dinner with the Keerkehgard boys and by now, everyone on Mars knows. Each time you go out to dinner with someone new and behave as befitting a DelFino princess, you remind the gossips that the disaster was the fault of those sods and not you.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ulla said. “That makes sense. But not the part about my warm feelings being needed for marriage. Don’t Silas’s count?”</p><p>“He’s a man, so not nearly as much,” Ottilie said with a sniff of contempt. “They’re like dogs that way.”</p><p>They both turned to the knock at the door. Natha left her packing and opened it for Grimaldi, the DelFino townhouse butler.</p><p>“Lady Ottilie, Miss Ulla,” he intoned. “Silas Avongale is waiting downstairs. It seems he heard you were having a dinner date again and, once again, it was without him. He wishes to know if you would meet him for dessert afterwards. Are you available?”</p><p>“No,” Ulla said firmly.</p><p>At the same moment, Ottilie said equally firmly, “Yes.”</p>
<hr/><p>Charlton paced nervously around the veranda while Iolanthe watched from her chair. The quickening evening breezes were so welcome and, despite every window in the manor house being opened and the additional ventilation provided by the leaky windows and roof, it was cooler outside. Rain clouds were hovering overhead as they had been for most of the day, accompanied by faint, faraway thunder. The long-anticipated daily spring rains would start soon. The family was enjoying the last moments outside before this storm began in earnest and forced them inside.</p><p>“I’m going to Merreth,” Charlton said. I have to go to Telduv anyways to sell a few pearls so I can just continue onwards. Lannie needs me.”</p><p>“She won’t be in Merreth anymore, my dear heart,” Iolanthe said. It’s been days and days and she’s somewhere on the way to Ranaglia.”</p><p>Jorge said from his own chair, placed next to Constance once again, “the daimyo expects you to remain here, Charlton. A trip to Telduv earning coin for your estates is acceptable. He will not countenance a side-trip to Merreth.”</p><p>“But my daughter needs her brother,” Constance chimed in, tears running down her face as they did on a daily basis. “She’s all alone in some terrible, rundown place and no one is helping her.”</p><p>It was petty of her, Iolanthe thought observing her mother-in-law’s tears, to be annoyed that Constance could weep regularly without looking wretched or developing a runny nose and swollen, red-rimmed eyes. Constance had good reason to sob, considering what her husband had done to her, their daughter and the peasants depending on them.</p><p>Jorge patted Constance’s hand reassuringly. “She is not alone, my dear. Someone is helping Lannie. That person is how she got to Merreth in the first place and that person probably provided the postcard and its stamp. The Postmaster believes the postcard came from a stationer in Panschin, based on the watermark.”</p><p>Charlton stopped dead in his tracks and all eyes turned to Jorge DelFino.</p><p>“<em>Panschin</em>?” Charlton demanded. “What the hellation is anyone from Panschin doing on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor road and not on the train? No one would ever <em>walk</em> to Barsoom from Panschin and back because of the weather. Those domes must be buried under twenty meters of snow year-round.”</p><p>“That’s not quite true,” Iolanthe said. “There’s no snow in the summer and a great deal of traffic of every kind travels through the Nourz to Panschin corridor when it melts. Also, what is this about a watermark? The Postmaster didn’t say anything about this when he first brought us Lannie’s postcard.”</p><p>“My mistake,” Jorge said, looking embarrassed. “The Postmaster asked for the card back the day after he delivered it to us, studied it closely, and wrote to the Telduv Postmaster to discover if the stationer could be located. The consensus was Panschin based on the mostly illegible watermark, the poor quality of the paper, and the slight discolorations indicating that the papermaking process had been contaminated by terraformers. He told me the results of his research this morning and in the rush of getting the millrace redug prior to the rains, I forgot to tell you.”</p><p>“Walking all the way to Panschin,” Charlton said again. “That’s impossible.”</p><p>Iolanthe began playing with her cane, rolling it between her hands as she tried to coax the memory to surface. Something Cressida Khan had told her when they had been at the train station in Nourz and were discussing the astonishing range of the other passengers. They were from every status in life, including the dregs.</p><p>“Maybe not,” she said unwillingly. “There are people who walk to Panschin and back. They’re desperately poor, they can’t afford a train ticket, and so they walk to Panschin to find work in the mines. They don’t have coin but they have time.”</p><p>Charlton looked horrified as the dreadful conclusion arrived. “My little sister is with some low-caste day laborer? Some wanna-be miner? On foot with no one to protect her?”</p><p>“We don’t know that,” Iolanthe rushed to reassure him, as well as Constance, equally horrified, who began sobbing harder. “I’m sure stationery from Panschin is widely available.”</p><p>“I don’t think so,” Jorge contradicted her. “Their market is probably limited to the northern regions.”</p><p>“You are not helping,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>The breeze stiffened, bringing the first scent of rain and thunder boomed overhead more insistently.</p><p>“We need to continue this discussion inside,” Iolanthe said, taking charge as droplets of rain began pelting down.</p><p>As Charlton helped Iolanthe inside, he said, “If Lannie still has the Pearls of Orlov, she won’t just get raped by some low-caste thug. He’ll murder her too.”</p><p>“I think, my dear,” Iolanthe said carefully, “we would have heard. Bodies of young women don’t just get left lying around to be ignored. There are far too many witnesses traveling on the Pole-To-Pole corridor. You saw the foot traffic from the train just as I did.”</p><p>Once they were inside and settled in the drawing room, the storm began to beat against the windows in earnest.</p><p>“Your sister could be getting soaked in that dreadful weather right now,” Constance said as she stared out at the windows, sluiced with rain.</p><p>“I’m very glad we got the millrace redug,” Jorge said, standing next to Constance at the window.</p><p>“I don’t care about the millrace,” Charlton snarled. “My sister could be trapped in that storm with some labor-caste thug. I’m going to Merreth after I’m done in Telduv.”</p><p>“You cannot,” Jorge said coldly and turned away from the window to face Charlton. What little animation he normally displayed fled, leaving a man made of granite. “The daimyo was clear in his instructions to me. You must remain on your estates and continue working to bring them up to DelFino standards. If you leave, I am required to inform Zachery immediately and he will reassign your estates to someone else within the family. Do not force me to perform the most unpleasant assignment I have ever been given. Your sister needs you, yes, I agree. But your estates and your peasants need you more.”</p><p>“I —” Charlton stopped, his face a rictus of agonized grief.</p><p>“If I know my daughter, Ulla is already on her way. She would have left for Merreth on the next train,” Jorge added in a consoling voice. “Ulla is very capable and practical and she will not fail Lannie.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right,” Charlton said. “Harry and I leave for Telduv in the morning. I’ll return in a few days.”</p><p>“Dimitri will be looking for Lannie as well,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“Yeah,” Charlton said dismally. He glanced at his wife and she knew what he was thinking and could not say aloud. Dimitri’s concern was not rescuing Lannie. It was retrieving the Pearls of Orlov.</p><p>Iolanthe broke the silence. “We do have an additional piece of information. The probable origin of the postcard. If it is from Panschin, then the person who gave Lannie the postcard is from that region. I will write everyone tonight and pass the information along. You can take the mail with you to Telduv in the morning and get it out faster.”</p><p>“That feels like I’m doing nothing,” Charlton growled.</p><p>“You are doing what you can,” Iolanthe said. “And when you can do more, you will.”</p><p>“Listen to your wife,” Jorge said. “She is correct. Zachery is waiting to see if you fail. Do not fail your peasants.”</p><p>“Instead I can fail my sister,” Charlton said resentfully. He clenched his fists and then let his fingers fall apart as he stared off into the rain beating against the glass and the dark night beyond it. “I have over one hundred people depending on me. So be it.”</p>
<hr/><p>Dimitri studied the ticket in his hand. Merreth. Some miniscule and utterly unimportant settlement on the Pole-To-Pole corridor and Lannie had mailed a postcard from there ten days ago, making it the most important place on Mars. Lannie wouldn’t be in Merreth anymore. She had to be on her way to Ranaglia because where else could she go that would take her in? Her mother’s home demesne was the most probable destination and making her destination even more likely, Ranaglia bordered the Pole-To-Pole corridor on the western side. Luckily, the Merreth post office had to be tiny and that meant the postal clerk might remember Lannie.</p><p>“Can you think of a reason why Miss Yilanda would have stopped in Merreth?” John RedHawk asked him, his own ticket tucked in his jacket pocket and his packed grip waiting next to him for a porter.</p><p>“I’ve told you everything,” Dimitri snapped. “I’ve no idea what Yilanda was doing in Merreth or how she got there.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord Dimitri,” RedHawk replied. Dimitri Orlov wasn’t lying about Merreth but he still hadn’t admitted the full truth. RedHawk had to wonder if the Orlovs ever would. He might find out during the trip to Merreth since he and Dimitri would be sharing a lower first-class compartment. Merreth was close enough by train that they might return by morning. Or, they might discover who was aiding Yilanda DelFino and why and continue the search from Merreth.</p><p>He might also discover why Dimitri Orlov was sharing a compartment with him, a paid investigator. Gentlemen of the Four Hundred rarely voluntarily shared anything with the help unless they were forced to. He had been expecting to be shoved in with Dimitri’s valet. Was it money issues? John RedHawk had been hearing the faintest of disquieting rumors about Orlov’s finances. Or was it because Dimitri Orlov couldn’t let him discover what Yilanda DelFino had really done when she had run away from her wedding to the daimyo of Orlov.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. It’s not like you can trust those people to be honest with us.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Dimitri!” Ulla screeched when she spotted him and John RedHawk loitering in the first-class waiting area for the next train north. She ran to meet them, shoving other passengers out of the way like the unimportant chaff they were.</p><p>“Oh Gods and all my ancestors,” Dimitri muttered while he hastily pasted on a pleasant expression. Madam Orlov was punishing him and he wasn’t even sure he believed the vindictive bitch had powers from beyond the grave. He had hoped to avoid the blonde harpy of DelFino, but Iolanthe, darn her, had obviously written to Ulla about Lannie’s postcard.</p><p>He rose from his seat, smiled graciously, and bowed as befitting a gentleman of the Four Hundred.</p><p>“So nice to see you, Ulla. On your way home to DelFino Castle, I assume?”</p><p>“Don’t be a bigger moron than you already are, Dimitri,” Ulla said. “Hello, Mr. RedHawk. I assume, since we all know Dimitri can be dim, that you are also going to Merreth to find Lannie?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss DelFino, we are,” RedHawk replied, concealing his amusement. It was always a pleasure to watch Ulla DelFino flay Dimitri Orlov in public when he, as a gentleman, had to stand there and take it. Mr. Parminder, his boss, would enjoy this part of his report, particularly since he, like RedHawk, had a good notion of what it was like being on the receiving end.</p><p>“I thought so,” Ulla said.</p><p>“Still working on your social skills, Ulla? Or should I introduce myself to this total stranger you dragged through the concourse,” Dimitri growled.</p><p>Yep, this will be a fun report, RedHawk thought, staying carefully out of the line of fire while memorizing everything he saw and heard.</p><p>“Oh, right. Dimitri, this is Silas Florez Avongale. He courteously agreed to come with me to Merreth. Silas, this is Dimitri Deengar Orlov, my new sister-in-law’s brother. You recall, I told you about Iolanthe who married my cousin Charlton,” Ulla said.</p><p>“It’s a pleasure,” Silas said and bowed far more gracefully and graciously than Dimitri had managed.</p><p>Dimitri and RedHawk both studied the young man accompanying Ulla DelFino: elegant but not trendy clothes in color choices designed to improve his flawless but new leaf green complexion, clean-favored and imperially slim. He didn’t look like she’d broken him to harness yet so perhaps there was still hope for Silas Avongale.</p><p>“You have been courting Ulla, Silas?” Dimitri asked. “I read about the two of you in the social columns, along with stories about her meeting plenty of other eligible young gentlemen of the Four Hundred.”</p><p>Silas smiled even more graciously. “Lady Ottilie wants Ulla to meet the cream of the aristocracy and know that she made the best possible choice.” He moved closer and more possessively towards Ulla.</p><p>“Something like that,” Ulla muttered. Annoyance flashed in her eyes.</p><p>“I’m one of Avongale’s frontrunners,” Silas said. “Dimitri is it? That future will never be yours since Orlov practices primogeniture and you are not that dissipated roué of a daimyo’s son.”</p><p>“You are correct,” Dimitri replied, openly nettled.</p><p>“So sad to know that Orlov is still ruled from the grave by a woman dead for generations.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ulla added. “It is sad. Barking mad too.”</p><p>“You spread rude gossip about us, Ulla?” Dimitri asked, hoping to embarrass Ulla over her lack of discretion.</p><p>“She didn’t have to,” Silas shot back. “Every social column in Barsoom has been rehashing Orlov scandals since Ulla’s cousin took to her heels like a sensible girl rather than becoming Rastislav’s fourth punching bag. Which you would know if you’d been reading them like you claim.”</p><p>The gong sounded, alerting the passengers crowding the concourse that a train was being boarded for points north.</p><p>“That’s us,” Ulla said. “Silas, I’ll catch up with you and Mr. RedHawk. Dimitri and I need a moment alone.”</p><p>“Of course, my darling.” Silas lifted Ulla’s hand to his mouth to kiss and she let him although she did not look thrilled about it.</p><p>She waited a moment for Silas and RedHawk to leave, slowly. They were both trying hard to overhear what she was about to say to Dimitri Orlov while not looking like eavesdroppers.</p><p>She didn’t wait long.</p><p>Ulla took a step forward and then grabbed Dimitri by his collar with both hands, yanking him close to her full, lush, red lips. She remembered vividly that Yair Buruk said she had a hot mouth and she’d finally figured out that he wasn’t talking about the extensive vocabulary she had learned from stablehands. She pushed the memory of Yair’s mouth away to deal with Dimitri, gaping at her like a gaffed deep river catfish.</p><p>The dumb sod probably thought she would kiss him.</p><p>“I will kill you if you let any harm come to Lannie and I don’t care if Orlov is ruined, your family humiliated across the Four Hundred, and the Pearls ground into dust and scattered to the four winds,” Ulla hissed. “Got me? Get your thumbs out of your ass and quit dawdling. We’ve got a train to catch.”</p><p>She let go of Dimitri’s collar, shoving him backwards, and marched after Silas Avongale and John RedHawk. Dimitri struggled furiously to regain enough control of himself to walk calmly after Ulla instead of tackling her to the floor of the train station and slapping her senseless like she deserved. The only satisfaction he could seize from his humiliation was that he was not the unlucky slobbo who would marry the harpy. All signs pointed to Silas Florez Avongale, the poor dumb sod. There was no need to warn him. If Silas was one of Avongale’s frontrunners, he should be smart enough not to stick tender portions of his anatomy into a tiger cage.</p><hr/><p>Two different men in the lower second-class seating watched the meeting unfold with interest. They did not know each other but each noticed the other taking an interest in Ulla DelFino and Dimitri Orlov over and above the rest of the fascinated audience grateful for a free show.</p><p>Outside the vast train station concourse, thunder boomed and the long-threatening rains began in earnest.</p><p>The two men discreetly took note of each other’s pertinent details for reports to their respective masters. The conclusion was logical. There was a lot of interest in locating Yilanda DelFino even if neither man knew exactly why.</p><hr/><p>Fen stared at the pearls in Lannie’s hand. His campfire was tiny, to avoid detection, yet the shimmering pearls caught and held every flicker. They looked as though they were lit from within and wouldn’t need the light from a campfire or even moonlight to be seen. As for Lannie, her distress was clear. Her eyes were tightly closed and her hand shook and tears leaked down her cheeks.</p><p>He carefully picked up a pearl again, turning it over and over to study it.</p><p>“This is a real pearl,” he repeated for the fourth time. He felt like a fool but he just couldn’t believe her story. No one left pearls laying around loose. If these ten luminescent beads were pearls, they should have been strung on a gold chain and worn with pride by a rich woman. If they were real, they would pay a big chunk of HighTower’s back taxes, maybe even all of them. Didn’t pearls come all the way across the solar system from Olde Earthe? He stared at the pearl again, wondering how such a poisonous hellhole could spawn something so beautiful.</p><p>“They’re all real,” Lannie said and hiccupped, making her hand shake more, threatening to spill the other nine pearls onto the ground.</p><p>She opened her big brown eyes to gaze at him. They were starting to turn red and swollen again from crying.</p><p>“Please don’t hate me.”</p><p>“I would never hate you,” Fen said, taking refuge in practical matters. “If these are real, you don’t want to lose them. Hold on, I got a little salt bag we can use.” He fished out the tiny leather pouch, held closed with a drawstring, from out of a tunic pocket and loosened the string. “Drop them in here. They’ll be safe.”</p><p>The wind shifted suddenly and quickened and at the same time, thunder boomed far away, long and low.</p><p>“Rain,” Fen and Lannie said at once, catching the increasing scent of water.</p><p>He grinned at her. “You are learning the steppes, Lannie.”</p><p>“You won’t leave me in the rain?” She looked panicked, ready to run into the night rather than face him.</p><p>“Never. We got to turn in. That rock outcropping should block the worst of the storm and we’ll talk about the pearls in the morning.”</p><p>“Okay. Fen?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“We can sell the pearls to buy me boots.”</p><p>“Good idea, Lannie.”</p><hr/><p>Pearls, Fen thought in disbelief as he settled in next to Lannie while the rain began beating down on the tarp he’d spread over them. Those are the prettiest beads I have ever seen in my life but they cannot possibly be real pearls. But why would Lannie have wasted time stealing beads when she was running for her life from DelFino and Orlov? If they were real, they were infinitely valuable but stealing them also guaranteed that she would be pursued. And as a low-level maid, she wouldn’t have had access to something this valuable. It didn’t make any sense.</p><p>He didn’t cut my throat when he saw the Pearls, Lannie thought as she snuggled in Fen’s bedroll, her back wedged up against his. The rain beat down on the tarp and once again, Fen let her stay somewhat dry while he got soaked. Perhaps when they bought her boots, they could buy another tarp so Fen could sleep drier.</p><p>I can buy boots for Lannie, Fen thought. If they’re real. But they’re stolen. I have to be careful when I sell them. If they’re real. They can’t be real. They just can’t. Lannie stole those beads, thinking they were real and I know she must have been in a panic but she stole them. Pearls aren’t like boots or a coverall that you steal to cover your nakedness when you’re fleeing for your life. Taking the pearls was theft. But I can’t turn her in. I won’t. Not Lannie. DelFino will murder her if they get her back. I won’t do that to Lannie.</p><hr/><p>Dawn appeared on schedule but it was dim, gloomy, and soggy. The clouds overhead formed a solid gray mass, dripping with water. Coppertail was sullen, wet and irritated, and he snapped at Lannie when she went over to check his hobbles. Fen quit trying to light a fire for hot tea and took over. They wolfed down a hurried breakfast of damp mil-rats accompanied with cold water instead of hot tea, broke camp, and were on their way quickly, heading back to the corridor road on the other side of the low hills. Fen led Coppertail while Lannie perched high on the gelding’s back. She was out of the mud and clinging, slapping wet grasses but exposed to the damp wind and stinging rain. She was cold, her coverall clammy, but it was bearable. Plus, the rain washed her clean, along with her smelly coverall and Fen, too. When the sun came out, they would eventually dry off just like they had after every other rain they’d endured.</p><p>“I don’t want this to sound like a complaint,” Lannie said, looking for something to distract Fen as he and Coppertail shoved their way through the dense sodden vegetation while she comfortably avoided the swampy mess. “But those raisin mil-rats tasted even more like mold than usual. Do you suppose the manufacturer makes them only when it’s raining and the dampness made them moldier as well as removing all the crunch? It could be a selling feature. And you won’t break your teeth!”</p><p>Fen snorted, as irritated as Coppertail was. “Do you eat mold often that you would know?”</p><p>She started giggling and his heart leaped and suddenly the world got sunnier and drier.</p><p>“I sure have! There’s a cheese I like that’s got blue and green veins of mold running through it. I know it sounds disgusting and it smells weird but it tastes divine.”</p><p>“We don’t eat anything like that at HighTower,” Fen said. Lannie had laughed. She had tried to make a little joke to distract him from the morning. Eating moldy cheese if you weren’t starving. What an absurd idea. He could never, ever turn her in for theft, stolen pearls or not.</p><p>“Lannie?”</p><p>She shifted in Coppertail’s saddle to better watch his face. He was smiling. He wasn’t angry. Or, if he was, he did a darn good job hiding it.</p><p>“I did mean what I said last night,” Lannie replied, hoping she was preventing a question she didn’t want to answer. “I want to use the pearls to buy me boots and anything else you think we need to get us to Darnay. Maybe a tarp for you? Or even a tent?”</p><p>A tent. Her standards had changed drastically since she’d run away from the cathedral and the golden, pearl-encrusted cage she was supposed to joyously enter when she became the daimyah of Orlov. She had never slept in a tent in her life and after yet another soggy, miserable night, a tent sounded like the height of luxury. The rocks and bugs and weird night noises would all still be there, but she and Fen would stay dry.</p><p>“Tents are a lot of trouble,” Fen said thoughtfully. “Take up a lot of space. I’ve used them and a tent is nice, especially when it’s fierce cold but it’s not cold here. I’d rather get you a horse of your own than load down Coppertail with more gear than he’s already hauling.”</p><p>They also didn’t have a pack of Ennaretee dogs tagging at their heels. A tent blocked night noises, making it easier for a bandit to slip up on them while they slept, unaware. An Ennaretee dog would alert them in a way that Coppertail would not and would fight to defend them. Sleeping out in the open, uncomfortable as it was, meant he stayed more aware of his surroundings. Best not to tell Lannie that part.</p><p>“Ooh,” Lannie said, eyes widening. “A horse. We would travel quicker.”</p><p>She’d get further away from Barsoom and every step away from the capital of Mars increased her anonymity. They’d also get further away from DelFino and as long as she was within a few dozen klicks of their border, Martian government-controlled corridor or not, she was at risk. The Martian government would never discover what DelFino did out in the trackless steppes as long as DelFino men stayed away from the corridor road. They had hundreds of klicks to travel before they left DelFino lands behind. A horse of her own. She’d never been an enthusiastic rider, but Coppertail, spirited and intelligent, was demonstrating the difference an excellent horse could make. And all the practice she was getting too, riding him while Fen walked. He walked briskly to be sure, but Coppertail obediently kept pace and let her gradually improve her horsemanship. Ulla would be so proud. But truthfully, Fen was making the difference. He managed Coppertail. The gelding tolerated her because Fen insisted.</p><p>“We would make Darnay in a quarter of the time it would take to walk,” Fen said. “Maybe less, depending on the weather and traffic on the road.”</p><p>He decided again not to mention thieves, slavers, and bandits. No reason to worry Lannie and other than the pickpocket they’d met on the road a few days ago, he wasn’t seeing much trouble on the return journey. Perhaps the daimyos of the demesnes on either side of the Pole-To-Pole corridor road patrolled it for bandits although he hadn’t seen any evidence. For certain he’d not seen any government sheriffs patrolling the road. It was hard for him to believe that with this much heavily laden foot traffic, that bandits wouldn’t be around to take their share. Like those bandits outside of Krangland.</p><p>Or maybe — the thought was uncomfortable — they’d been lucky. How long would his luck hold?</p><p>Learning that Lannie had stolen those ten pearls also made him understand why she’d been so frightened of that pickpocket. She knew she was a thief and she was afraid of being caught. Well, thief or not, Lannie had been desperate and he’d make sure no one ever knew she’d stolen those ten pearls.</p><p>“Lannie? Do you have any idea how much those pearls are worth?” If they were real. Which they weren’t.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Lannie admitted. “Quite a lot, I think. I know every pearl on Mars got here from Olde Earthe’s oceans. They’re not like diamonds or gold. I do know that the bigger the pearl, the more it’s worth.”</p><p>Fen thought hard, puzzled anew. “Do they dig them out of the ocean?” Oceans were made of water! Water so big it defied comprehension. The bottom maybe?</p><p>“No,” Lannie said and began giggling madly and Fen felt like the sun danced out from behind the clouds, making the rain vanish entirely. “It’s the craziest thing but it’s true. Pearls are alive! They come out of an animal that lives in the ocean. Like a, a bone would.”</p><p>“From a <em>fish</em>?” He’d never heard of such a thing. Fishbones could be brittle and were too darn small and skinny to turn into anything useful other than a needle.</p><p>“No, not a fish, I think,” she said. “An animal that lives inside a shell, like a snail, but it lives in the water.”</p><p>“I’ve eaten snails,” Fen said dubiously. “They don’t have any bones. They don’t have much of anything inside those shells except a taste of meat if you’re lucky and the shells are too small to do anything with except make them into beads.”</p><p>Lannie giggled again. “That’s what I read. Maybe it’s just another Olde Earthe lie. It’s not like you can trust those people to be honest with us.”</p><p>She wanted to bite her tongue off. She’d been lying to Fen since the moment she’d met him.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I haven’t been honest with you.”</p><p>“Lannie,” Fen said and patted her leg reassuringly as he gazed up at her anxious face. “I remember that day at the livery stable. You were terrified and desperate and looked like you’d been crying for days. It’s okay. You did not know me and you had good reason.”</p><p>“Thank you.” She stared into his dark brown eyes, feeling like she could fall into them. The bruises had faded and Fen was, despite his scraggly beard and mustache and long, long braid of hair, becoming very attractive. Even his cluster of beads, woven into his hair by his left temple had stopped looking silly. She gave herself a mental shake. That wasn’t the way to think at all. She had to travel with this man for a very long time and she didn’t want to give him the wrong idea.</p><p>“I think,” she said in a rush, “you should sell a pearl in Weer. When we get there. Maybe a pawnshop? I’ve heard they buy all kinds of things and they might be less likely to ask questions than a jeweler would. And I’d like to stay with Coppertail. Out on the steppes.”</p><p>Fen considered this carefully. Lannie was inexperienced but she wasn’t stupid. It was actually a good idea. Pawnshops or so he had been told in Barsoom weren’t fussy about what they bought. The pawnshop dealer wouldn’t pay him very much for a pearl but he wouldn’t ask for proof of ownership either. And it was possible that someone was looking for Lannie because of the pearls. If she stayed behind, she wouldn’t be seen.</p><p>“I’ll do that,” he replied and was rewarded with her relieved smile.</p><p>They reached the edge of the corridor road and blended into the subdued foot traffic heading north. No one paid them much attention in the drizzle of rain. Fen watched Lannie discreetly as they plodded along with everyone else and yes, he could see the difference in her. Just like after she’d mailed the postcard to her brother, she was happier. A weight had lifted off her. She had unburdened herself to him and he had freed her from a fear. Another thought struck Fen. Weer was large enough to have a post office. Lannie might like to mail another postcard to her brother, just like he’d reassure his own family with a postcard. They had to be wondering why it was taking him so long. By now, he should have bypassed Eljinn, at the 10° Latitude Corridor crossroad marking the northern boundary of DelFino’s lands. Fen glanced up at Lannie again. He wasn’t ready, yet, to tell his family or Theo about her. Not until he was sure he had talked Lannie into going with him to HighTower instead of Northernmost.</p><p>Pearls. Ten of them.</p><p>If he cut a good deal selling a pearl in Weer, he could keep the remaining pearls in reserve. His family would welcome penniless Lannie with open arms into the demesne as a vassal. Because of the pearls, they might consider accepting her into the family. She had another point in her favor besides the coin the pearls were worth. Lannie was completely unrelated genetically and that meant the best chance of fertility. The possibility of children meant a lot, maybe even enough to overlook her status of lowly runaway maid.</p><p>He could feel his blood stirring and sternly told his body to behave. Whatever DelFino and Orlov had done to Lannie, it had made her nervous and anxious about men. He would not add to her fears. He would treat her like his sister, as difficult as that was.</p><hr/><p>The train pulled into the Merreth station a few hours later, late at night and in pouring down rain. The Merreth train station didn’t merit a covered walkway for the few disembarking passengers, nor was there an army of porters scurrying about to see to the needs of wealthy passengers. Not at midnight, at any rate. It wasn’t like the vast and complex edifice Barsoom’s train station was; the beating heart of an empire designed and built to impress upon visitors how little they mattered in the great scheme of things. Barsoom’s train station never ceased operations, no matter what the weather was like or the time of day.</p><p>Ulla ran from the train to the relative shelter of the open-sided station, while simultaneously trying to peer through the rain to see if by some miracle Lannie was loitering at the station. She wasn’t and neither was anyone else. The only people getting off the first-class car were herself, Silas (who had kept his damn hands to himself in their compartment, probably because of Natha’s presence), Dimitri, John RedHawk, and their servants. She had been ready to travel without a lady’s maid but Ottilie and Zachery insisted so Natha came along. It did not seem to have crossed either Silas or Dimitri’s minds that they could manage a few days without a manservant. Mr. RedHawk rose in her estimation. He managed to dress himself and still look properly turned out.</p><p>Once under cover, she marched over to the ticket counter and accosted the sleepy night clerk.</p><p>“I need a hotel room right now. And a porter. And where is the Merreth waystation post office located?”</p><p>Dimitri was right behind her, making his own demands. At that point, the group discovered that there was one hotel in Merreth, one carriage that would carry them all to the hotel together and it had yet to be summoned, and there was no choice in the matter, despite who they were.</p><p>“Fine,” Ulla said.</p><p>The carriage roof leaked. It needed new springs. It was cramped. It hadn’t been cleaned in years. The hotel was shabby and rundown. But Lannie was somewhere close by or rather, evidence of Lannie was near.</p><p>At that point, the group discovered that the small hotel catered to business travelers (a small group) and tourists (a vanishingly small group). There were two rooms left: one for Ulla and her maid and one for everyone else.</p><p>“I could share with you, my sweet,” Silas murmured to Ulla so only she could hear. “This is a golden opportunity to get to know each other better.”</p><p>“With my Natha as witness? I don’t think so,” Ulla retorted. The thought flashed by like a comet: she wouldn’t have said ‘no’ to Yair Buruk despite knowing virtually nothing about him, not even where he lived or who his people were. She would have cheerfully paid for a separate room for Natha for some privacy. She shoved the flash into the memory file she was building of Yair. She was being so foolish. She would never see him again and Lannie needed her more. Yet she couldn’t stop wondering what Yair would think of this little hotel out in the middle of nowhere and how indifferently it was being managed.</p><p>Dimitri watched the byplay with interest. So, despite the signals Silas was sending, Ulla didn’t necessarily agree. Well, he wasn’t going to make a fool of himself asking to — shudder — share a room or a bed with the harpy.</p><p>John RedHawk, a hardened veteran of indifferent hotels, took charge and said to the sleepy desk clerk, “We’ll share. Move a few cots into the room for the gentlemen’s valets. Is breakfast available?”</p><p>The night desk clerk responded to the voice of authority. “Yes, sir. A café down the street. Tell them you’re staying here at Biel’s and they’ll give you the local rate. They open at dawn.”</p><p>“But they’re not open now?” Dimitri demanded. Dinner was a long time ago.</p><p>“Of course they’re not open,” Ulla snapped before the desk clerk could. The words ‘ greedy moron’ hovered in the air. “It’s midnight. This is not Barsoom. You should have gotten a snack on the train.”</p><p>She turned to the desk clerk. “I assume the waystation post office is also closed?”</p><p>“Yes, my lady.”</p><p>“Get a bellman for my bags. I need a dawn wakeup call. I’ll see all of you then. Good night.”</p><p>Ulla took her room key and the lone, yawning bellman seized her bags, leaving everyone else standing there in the lobby.</p><p>RedHawk concealed a smile. The quality could be so helpless, Ulla DelFino excepted. He picked up his own bag, took the room key and followed Ulla, her maid, and the bellman to the stairs. Silas and Dimitri glared at each other, then glared at the clerk who ignored them in favor of waving a feather duster at the collection of pictures of local landmarks and prominent citizens on the wall behind the desk. Then they glared at their respective valets who got the message, picked up the luggage and followed RedHawk to the stairs leading upwards.</p><p>The desk clerk was about to retire for a nap when the lobby door opened again, bringing with it a rush of cool, wet air and two sodden travelers. They had walked from the train station, carrying their bags.</p><p>“All rooms are sold out,” he said and yawned again.</p><p>“I’ll sleep in the lobby,” the first stranger said.</p><p>“So will I,” the other stranger said.</p><p>The clerk yawned again. “Sure. Reduced rates. Café down the street opens at dawn.”</p><p>“Mil-rats available?” the first traveler asked.</p><p>“I can eat them too.”</p><p>“When does the waystation post office open?”</p><p>The second man looked at the first one and at once they both knew they were on the same mission: locating Yilanda DelFino and presumably before Ulla DelFino and Dimitri Orlov did.</p><p>“Mil-rats are in the case in the corner of the lobby. The post office opens an hour after dawn,” the desk clerk replied. “It closes an hour before sunset.” He studied the two men, so similar in their appearance. While both men were neatly and sedately dressed, there was nothing fashionable or trendy about them. They were no longer young but not yet middle-aged and both had that faint, undefinable attitude that said ‘reliable and trusted servant on a mission’. Now what, the clerk wondered, did all these ristos and their servants want at the Merreth waystation post office? More interestingly, these last two were apparently willing to eat mil-rats so as to avoid being noticed by the ristos.</p><p>The clerk decided to be helpful and earn a better tip. “I just checked in a large group. Ristos and their servants. Miss Ulla DelFino, Dimitri Orlov, and Silas Avongale and someone named John RedHawk. They’ve got a dawn wakeup call and will be trooping through the lobby soon afterwards on their way to the café.”</p><p>“Why are you telling me this?” the first man asked suspiciously.</p><p>“And me?”</p><p>“We don’t often get visitors to Merreth other than for the shoe factory and the grain mill,” the clerk confided. “Everyone else is a transient and they sleep at the waystation. Since you came in on the same train, I thought you might be related in some way.”</p><p>“You thought wrong.”</p><p>“Agreed.”</p><p>“If you say so,” said the clerk. “Want me to get you two up and moving before I alert Miss DelFino?” He held out his empty, cupped hand. “Or after?”</p><p>“Before.” Coins clinked.</p><p>“Same here.” More coins.</p><p>The desk clerk smiled at the pile in his hand. “Nice doing business with you. Let’s get you checked in. The gentlemen’s lounge is off the lobby so you can dry off and change before you turn in. The club chairs in the far corner are the most comfortable to sleep in as well as the most private. I’ll make sure you gentlemen are up and out of the lobby before I wake Miss DelFino.”</p><hr/><p>The night desk clerk shook awake one stranger, then the other.</p><p>“It’s dawn. Mil-rats in the corner case along with two carafes of hot tea. Eat out on the side porch off the lobby through those doors —” he pointed to a discreet exit “— and you won’t be seen by anyone in the lobby or out on the street. I left you a sketch-map of Merreth with the post office’s location marked. Leave the carafes and I’ll clean up afterwards.”</p><p>The clerk held out his empty hand, smiled winningly, and as he hoped, he was rewarded with another coin from each of his two yawning lobby sleepers.</p><p>“If you want to spend another night, let me know and I’ll keep you out of sight of Miss DelFino and her party.”</p><p>The first stranger said “do you expect them to stay another night in Merreth?”</p><p>The clerk answered honestly. “I have absolutely no idea. I’ve lived here all my life and I have never heard of a DelFino in Merreth, let alone an Orlov or an Avongale. What’s more, Miss DelFino is not here for a tryst with either of those two ristos. You should have seen her face when Avongale propositioned her and right in front of me too. Dumb sod thought he was being discreet but I knew what he was saying to her.”</p><p>“Her face would curdle milk?” the second stranger said with a smirk.</p><p>The clerk snickered. “Oh yeah. I got to run. Miss DelFino doesn’t look the type to accept anything less than a dawn wakeup if that’s what she asks for.”</p><p>The first stranger grinned suddenly. “She won’t. But do what she asks and she’s actually quite reasonable for a DelFino.”</p><p>The second stranger nodded in agreement. When the clerk left them, scurrying towards the stairs, he said, “we need to talk.”</p><hr/><p>Upstairs, the clerk steeled himself before knocking on Ulla’s door. Despite what she had demanded, it was still dawn and he had never heard of ristos getting up with the sun. They slept in while the servants got up and worked to make everything ready for a pleasant and comfortable morning.</p><p>To his surprise, it only took a few minutes for Ulla and her maid to rouse themselves and then, wrapped up in the fanciest dressing gown he had ever seen (real silk brocade and embroidered all over with little flowers interspersed with DelFino sigils and probably cost a month of his salary), Ulla DelFino tipped him well.</p><p>“The café opens at dawn?”</p><p>“Yes, my lady. Should I alert them that your party is on the way?”</p><p>Ulla frowned at the room across the hall. This was a tiny hotel. There were exactly four rooms and Dimitri, Silas, RedHawk and the valets were sharing one. Based on the snoring, no one was up yet. In fact, based on the lack of movement, she and Natha were the only people awake at all other than the desk clerk. Did she want to dress, leave, eat, and find the post office by herself or would that cause more trouble with Dimitri? The decision was easy. If she left right away, she could ask questions more discreetly so it was worth the risk. The café staff may have seen Lannie too because Lannie had to eat somewhere and there probably wasn’t any other café in Merreth. Dimitri’s concern was the Pearls, not Lannie. Silas would only get in the way.</p><p>She opened her mouth to say ‘no’ when the door to the other room opened and John RedHawk stepped out. He was fully dressed, shaved, and, unlike her, ready to go out for breakfast and then search for Lannie.</p><p>“Good morning, Mr. RedHawk,” Ulla said dutifully. Damnation. RedHawk wouldn’t let her get away with a surreptitious visit to the waystation post office, while his employer, Dimitri, snored away. “Are the gentlemen up yet?”</p><p>“No, Miss DelFino and good morning to you too,” RedHawk replied, concealing his surprise. Good gods above. She said a dawn wakeup call and she meant it.</p><p>Ulla frowned. “I suppose you’re going to get Dimitri and Silas up so we can all go to the café together and then on to the post office.”</p><p>“Yes, Miss DelFino. We share the same excellent idea.”</p><p>Damnation, RedHawk thought. I’d hoped to beat everyone to the post office so I could speak to the postal clerk without being interfered with, either by the harpy or the lying idiot who hired me. Or that risto cad who had the nerve to proposition the harpy in public and why is he along for the ride? And the café staff too, just in case Yilanda DelFino ate there.</p><p>Ulla bowed to defeat and told the desk clerk “let the café know we’ll be there shortly. Table for four and a table for three.”</p><p>“Yes, Miss DelFino,” the clerk replied. Not dining with the servants, are you, he thought. But then why are you eating with John RedHawk? He’s not a risto, but he’s not a servant either, so what is he? Not a merchant or a businessman. Something altogether different from what we usually get around here.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I would have never seen that wanted poster if it hadn’t been for you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rastislav stared longingly at the tantalus brimming with rich, heady, sweet-scented, intoxicatingly delicious red wine, then turned away with a whimpered groan and clenched fists. Madame Orlov’s latest visitation had reinforced her earlier edict that he was not permitted even the tiniest of sips, no matter how he craved them.</p><p>The rain beat against the windows. The night outside was unfit for serfs, yet Yilanda was out there, somewhere near Merreth, shivering and soaked. The thieving, lying, jilting bitch. He sent a brief prayer to Madame Orlov that faithless Yilanda catch a chill and suffer, but not bad enough to die unlocated. If she was contrary enough to die, the Pearls of Orlov were gone for good. Assuming she still carried them and they weren’t already lost beyond hope.</p><p>To add to his displeasure, the ham quit lounging on the sofa and came and stood next to him, staring out into the rain-drenched darkness. It was nearly midnight. The weather was so bad that the streets were almost empty despite the early hour. Only predawn streets were normally this bare of life and movement and traffic. He should have been out there, enjoying the nightlife and parties of Barsoom as befitted his station in life, but Yilanda had humiliated him in front of the entire Four Hundred. All the scandals of Orlov had been resurrected and he was no longer welcome in anyone’s home.</p><p>The only pleasure left, Rastislav considered, was that Albion DelFino was no longer welcome either. Moreover, he had been banned from his home demesne and had no place left to go.</p><p>He glared at the window, sluiced with rain like someone was throwing buckets of water against it. Meaning he, Rastislav, was stuck with the rotted ham because of Yilanda. Right up until the moment they found her. Then the ham would get what he deserved as would his wayward daughter. He drifted off into a pleasant and familiar daydream. Should he drag Albion to Orlov where he could do as he pleased to the ham? Orlov Castle had lower level basement storage rooms that could be used as dungeons. That might even have been Madame Orlov’s plan from the beginning. The Whipmaster had a skillful hand with the knout from much practice on Orlov’s more unruly serfs. He could bring a serf near death and hold him there, repeatedly. Or should he hand over the ham to Goryonov’s thugs, waiting patiently in the rain. Goryonov would welcome Albion DelFino, he would suffer greatly, and probably not survive the ordeal. Even better, Goryonov might show appreciation towards Orlov for keeping Albion on ice and preventing him from disappearing into the night. Yes, that might be the best choice.</p><p>He would, after all, be busy bringing Yilanda to heel.</p><p>“My little girl,” Albion lamented, interrupting Rastislav’s thoughts. He posed nobly by the window as if he had an audience of thousands instead of an empty street. “Lost in that dreadful weather and soaked to the skin. You should have sent me with Dimitri to rescue her. My daughter would run to me to escape the dark and stormy night.”</p><p>“Bah!” Rastislav spat out. “Your daughter would flee from you, no matter how dark and stormy the night. My nephew, disrespectful as he is, was right on that score. You would steal the Pearls and abandon your daughter and I, the daimyo of Orlov, and all my people would be left with nothing.”</p><p>Albion opened his eyes wide (projecting sincerity with all his might) and said “I would never do such a thing to my dearest friend and my future father-in-law. I will return and my daughter will marry you and bear you an army of sons.”</p><p>“Bah,” Rastislav said and turned away, putting his back to the night, Albion, and the tantalus. Unfortunately, that meant he could not avoid the townhouse portrait of Madame Orlov, dominating the room as she had dominated the family, Orlov Castle, and all of Orlov down to the last blade of grass. Her power had not diminished with her death, generations ago. Her painted eyes glared down at him coldly, finding fault with how he looked, how he governed, how he breathed, how he had sired no sons, and most of all, how he had failed to protect the Pearls of Orlov.</p><p>His failure gnawed at him. The Pearls were a priceless talisman; the source of Orlov’s wealth, the backing for every mortgage, loan, and debt. They were the envy of everyone who saw them. They brought fertility to the demesne, made it rain regularly, ensured rich harvests, and kept the serfs from revolting. And he had lost them by bringing them to Barsoom so Yilanda could wear them on their wedding day and become pregnant with the first of his many sons.</p><p>He had no sons.</p><p>Nor daughters, useless though they would be. Without a son, the rule of Orlov would pass to someone else after his death, but it would not be to anyone in his direct line. He was the last, and his closest relative in the family, three degrees of consanguinity away, was Fredo. Fredo was a hopeless drunk with a rude, disrespectful, foolish son. Morley thought serfs might have some value other than the work they could do and had the temerity to say so.</p><p>Rastislav spun on his heel, surprising Albion and making the ham scurry backwards until his back pressed into the burgundy velvet drapes framing the storm outside.</p><p>“Why did Yilanda run to Merreth?” Rastislav screamed again at Albion, so close his nose was almost touching the ham’s nose.</p><p>“I don’t know!” Albion screamed back, goaded by panic that Rastislav would grab him and shove him bodily through the closed window, the glass shredding his flesh and then being drowned by the pouring rain.</p><p>“If I did, I would have told you and Dimitri so we could capture her and bring her back. You think I wanted this? I did not!”</p><p>Rastislav forced himself to move back, away from Albion’s cowering, cringing self. It would have been so satisfying to shove Albion through the glass but he was rational enough to know that it would not make Yilanda magically appear inside the Orlov townhouse. He might still need Albion to catch Yilanda. And the Pearls. Yilanda could drown in a ditch if he was able to rescue the Pearls. He would even — the notion was galling — forgo punishing her if it meant the Pearls came home.</p><p>He stomped away to stare again at the tantalus. It was so close, so full, so delicious, and he needed a drink so badly. Everything had gone wrong. The Pearls vanished; Yilanda who would have borne him an army of sons, fled. That doxy of a maid, vanished after betraying Orlov even if it was merely the ugly cripple. Mrs. Pondicherry, unmanning him so he could no longer function as a man should and stealing the set of false Pearls and probably telling everyone on Mars that the real Pearls were false as well. The family loathed him and he had no sons of his own to save the demesne from their misrule.</p><p>Albion quietly pulled the burgundy velvet drapes closed, muffling the roar of wind and rain. That had been close. He swallowed fear, acrid and prickly. The drunken lout still needed him and as long as Rastislav needed him, he was safe enough. Dear Yilanda would never go near Rastislav but she might return to daddy. Sadly, he couldn’t count on his ungrateful daughter’s loyalty. Her brother and the harpy had poisoned her mind against him. He had to plan his exit because it was becoming more and more apparent an escape into safe but destitute anonymity was the best he could hope for. Him, who had once held such promise in DelFino.</p><p>All his hopes and dreams vanished because Yilanda ran away from her wedding and stole the Pearls of Orlov. Albion said a little prayer that wherever his daughter was, she was cold, wet, hungry, and desperate to come home.</p><hr/><p>Weer, small but busy, was the first free-city that Fen and Lannie rode into rather than bypassed since leaving the outskirts of Barsoom. The Pole-To-Pole Corridor road generally ran alongside the edge of a town rather than down the middle, leaving the locals unmolested by transients and their town in one piece rather than split asunder by its massive width. Weer, despite its location at a crossroad, was no exception. Businesses that catered to foot traffic on the Corridor road clustered around the waystation, taking advantage of the captive audience. The 5° Latitude Corridor was arranged the same. The main railways, separating the north and south lines of foot traffic as well as the east and west lines, didn’t run through the middle of town either. Spurs took trains to the train station for loading and unloading and then the train would rejoin its line.</p><p>Lannie stared around and around as they entered, Fen leading Coppertail while she rode. She had never paid attention to the towns the train roared past when traveling and this was an oddly familiar world. Weer was far bigger than the village back in their estates in DelFino yet it had a similar look and feel. Loss and regret stabbed through her, seeing the thatched roofs on the cottages, so similar to home.</p><p>She spotted an apothecary’s carved and painted sign. An apothecary, but probably not corrupted like Mistress Vaughn who had an affair with daddy and then poisoned mama. The more Lannie thought about it, the surer she was correct. If Charlton had caught wind of the postcard she’d mailed him from Merreth, he had already thrown out both Mistress Vaughn and daddy and maybe, mama was recovering.</p><p>She had to believe her hopes were true because she would never find out what actually happened.</p><p>Fen hadn’t wanted to try the Corridor shops because he’d been afraid to leave Lannie alone, outside with Coppertail. He’d thought the town would be both safer and give a better price for the pearl. The Corridor shops were for people who were desperate and would take what they got and like it. The town shops had to do better — in price, service, and range of merchandise — to serve the residents. As she looked around, Lannie could see he was correct.</p><p>Weer was big enough to support a good-sized general store, three stories tall, and a pawnshop with its three hanging balls sign as well as the apothecary. Unlike the Corridor, the street wrapping around the central, square park was quiet and mostly empty. The few people moving around on the streets looked very much like the peasants back home; hardworking, without time to stand around and gossip. Not at this time of day. However, they were not nearly as shabby or thin as the peasants back home and she wanted to wince again at daddy’s mismanagement. Was Charlton doing any better? She’d never know if he was succeeding any more than she’d know about mama’s health.</p><p>She got a few stares, but most people recognized a transient from the Corridors when they saw one. Coppertail, on the other hand, garnered his fair share of admiring glances.</p><p>The buildings, including everything Lannie knew from home (village hall, church, pub, granary, and schoolhouse) and those that she didn’t know (two more pubs, imposing general store, livery stable, a doctor’s office, a lawyer, a barber, an actual lady’s dress shop next to a tiny jeweler, the sheriff and she carefully stayed out of view of its windows, and a tattoo parlor of all things) arranged around the grassy, tree-dotted park made it seem far away from the Corridor road. It was quiet enough to hear birdsong, a welcome change from the never-ending clamor of the road. The statue in the middle of the park must have been of some brave founder, perhaps the man the town of Weer was named after. She didn’t know and it was galling to receive another lesson about her ignorance. Maybe there was a plaque and she could find out who Weer was and why he founded a town.</p><p>Lannie waited anxiously, pacing nervously in the park. Coppertail was hobbled near her so he could crop the unmown grass and enjoy the shade. Fen refused to tie the gelding up if he had a choice, insisting Coppertail was happier when he was hobbled and had some freedom of movement. The statue’s plaque had been singularly unhelpful, noting only the founding of the town but nothing about the man except he was ‘an early explorer of Mars’. She and Fen had discussed her waiting outside in the steppes with Coppertail but Fen had been adamant; she had to be able to try on boots because she couldn’t risk ripping up her feet again.</p><p>She was forced to agree because he did make sense and after all, he didn’t know her real reason for hiding out on the steppes. He thought it was the theft of ten pearls, not the entirety of the Pearls of Orlov. Those darn pearls. She should have abandoned them in the cathedral but she couldn’t leave anything behind that was so, so gloriously beautiful and sang to her heart the way they did. Cutting the bracelet apart to give Fen the ten pearls had hurt just as mailing the earrings to Charlton and selling the pearl ring to the postal clerk in Merreth had been painful. It had been difficult to watch Fen take the pearls and put them in his little salt bag and tuck the bag inside his tunic pocket close to his heart.</p><p>She wanted them back. All of them. Even the earrings, despite the dreadful memory of Rastislav thrusting the wires through the holes in her earlobes and what he’d whispered to her when he did it.</p><p>The pearls affected her thinking and it was becoming increasingly noticeable and worrisome. They were as lustrously beautiful as new snow in the moonlight, but they were jewelry. It didn’t make sense.</p><p>It was even more worrisome fretting over if anyone would notice her. Why would they notice her? She was another raggedy transient, loitering in a park and keeping an eye on a horse for someone. From the glances she got, it seemed common enough because no one got excited other than to give her looks of contempt and disdain, although Coppertail was admired. No one from DelFino knew she was here. Or Orlov. Orlov was certainly looking for her but they had no idea she was here. Everyone probably thought she had run to a friend, like Shondra back in Barsoom.</p><p>Coppertail nickered and she turned, startled out of her nervous worries. He had managed, despite the hobble, to amble away to the edge of the park and was eagerly nosing a lushly blooming flowerbed.</p><p>“Bad Coppertail! Bad Coppertail! You naughty boy,” Lannie said and strode after the gelding. “No flowers for you.”</p><p>She grabbed his reins and to her intense relief, the gelding didn’t bite her or kick her and allowed her to lead him slowly back to the statue and a nearby bench. She tied him loosely to the park bench, went back to the flowerbed, surreptitiously picked some of the most luscious looking ornamental grass, and brought it back to the gelding to reward him for being obedient.</p><p>“I can’t ignore you, can I,” Lannie said. Coppertail snorted and then permitted her to scratch him behind the ears, just where it itched.</p><p>When he’d had enough, he began nosing the grass at his feet again, giving Lannie a chance to look around some more while Fen conducted his business inside the pawnshop. What was taking so long? She should be perfectly safe but knowing this didn’t make her feel calmer.</p><p>Then she spotted it. This side of the park had a public bulletin board, roofed over to protect the notices and there was a drawing of her. With words. A Wanted poster. Information about Miss Yilanda DelFino. Reward.</p><p>She couldn’t stop herself from sidling over to examine it closely despite the attention she might receive from other people loitering in the streets. The drawing was indifferent but she was recognizable, if you paid attention to facial features and not to clothing and hairstyle. She read the notice with growing horror. Orlov was offering a big reward for any information about Yilanda DelFino’s whereabouts. There was no mention of her jilting the daimyo of Orlov. There was also no mention of the Pearls of Orlov or that she had stolen anything. Even so, the big reward would get people’s attention.</p><p>Lannie waited anxiously for several minutes pretending to read the other notices and when she thought no one was looking, she tore down the poster and stuffed it into a pocket, right on top of some of the Pearls of Orlov. She had to get out of Weer as quickly as possible. What was taking Fen so long? They had to get some coin and they had to buy her boots and she had to disappear back onto the Pole-To-Pole Corridor road.</p><p>She’d figured Orlov was looking for her and now she knew. They were. But was DelFino? They had to leave but she had to have boots. Just standing on the soft grass in the park was starting to make her feet itch again. Her coverall pantlegs, rolled up again to make them last longer, were in ruins and wouldn’t last as foot coverings more than another day or so. They were already here in Weer so it was best to get it over with and then they’d avoid towns. Would Fen agree? Where was he? Coppertail nickered again, demanding her attention, stared at her, and she looked and didn’t see Fen but she did see a clump of particularly juicy and sweet tall clover that the gelding couldn’t reach, despite how he stretched out his neck.</p><p>She went over and plucked the clover and brought it to Coppertail.</p><p>“You are the best horse ever,” Lannie said and fed him clover, nibble by nibble. “I would have never seen that wanted poster if it hadn’t been for you. You are a very clever boy. Yes, you are. You knew I needed to pay attention to that bulletin board. Yes, you did.” Talking to Coppertail and feeding him kept her from marching into the pawnshop and demanding Fen that they leave on the spot.</p><p>She had to have boots. No one knew she was here and with the wanted poster in her pocket, no one would.</p><hr/><p>Breakfast at the Hot Cuppa café was odd.</p><p>Dimitri and Silas were both so sleepy they were unable to make conversation. Ulla thought that was just as well, since it meant she didn’t have to think of clever banter about the esthetics of cloud formations. Dimitri focused on inhaling large quantities of some dreary hot porridge and heaps of something utterly disgusting called liver mush with hard-fried eggs, whereas Silas disconsolately picked at his wheatcakes and bacon, examining each bite to see if it met his high standards. From his facial expressions, they didn’t.</p><p>Mr. RedHawk ate his breakfast the same way she did: efficiently. That was why he was here and he needed nourishment to get through the morning effectively.</p><p>To Ulla’s dismay, the result was that she and Mr. RedHawk were finished well before Dimitri and Silas. She had to wait — cooling her heels as the morning slowly progressed and the post office opened without her being first in line to enter — because it was a good bet Mr. RedHawk would have something to say about her leaving for the post office on her own. It took real effort to keep her hands in her lap so she didn’t start nibbling her slowly recovering fingernails back down to the quick.</p><p>On the other hand, Mr. RedHawk couldn’t leave either.</p><p>Ulla ordered another cup of indifferent tea and thought about what she would ask the postal clerk and how she could manage to get rid of Dimitri, Mr. RedHawk, and that darn Silas Avongale while she did. Aunt Ottilie and Zachery had both insisted that he accompany her to Merreth, along with Natha. ‘To protect her’ or so Ottilie said. She’d have to tell Ottilie how the cad had propositioned her and right in front of the desk clerk too. The nerve of him.</p><p>Finally, finally, finally, Dimitri finished stuffing his face and focused on washing it all down with muddy cups of something the café claimed was coffee. For his part, Silas left most of his breakfast unfinished as it did not meet his standards, but he wasn’t any quicker. Despite the urgency, neither of them showed any signs of moving.</p><p>Ulla found herself meeting Mr. RedHawk’s sharp, perceptive gaze repeatedly as they gave sideways glances at the other two and then to each other. They both glanced up at the clock on the wall, outside into the brightening streets, and considered how the clerk at the post office had been open for business for some time, while they waited in the café.</p><p>At least Mr. RedHawk used his empty time constructively, questioning the other diners and the staff. Unlike her, he came prepared.</p><p>Someone had to do something.</p><p>Ulla stood up and announced, “I am done wasting time. I’m going to the post office right now. Miss! Check, please.”</p><p>The waitress scurried over, Ulla paid her tab, Natha’s, plus that of Silas and Silas’s valet just so she could get out of there quicker. Dimitri could take care of his party himself. She marched out of the café, checked the map she’d coerced the hotel desk clerk into providing and frowned at the street from under the awning. The rain had slowed down to an annoying drizzle. It was a long sodden walk to the Pole-To-Pole Corridor road and the waystation post office.</p><p>“My darling,” Silas said, coming up alongside her. “I’ll arrange for a carriage so you won’t get wet.”</p><p>“Thank you, but I’m not made of sugar,” Ulla said. Summoning carriages wasted still more time, but then she’d stay dry.</p><p>“Very true. No one would ever accuse <em>you</em> of being sweet,” Dimitri said, coming up on her other side.</p><p>“Don’t listen to that rude slobbo,” Silas said. He moved closer, so he was standing too close.</p><p>“I don’t intend to,” Ulla said and wondered how quickly a carriage could be arranged and could she shove both Silas and Dimitri under the horses’ hooves into the mud when one finally showed up. Why didn’t they have trolleys? Merreth was too darn small of course.</p><p>Mr. RedHawk surveyed the street, the drizzle, the squabbling ristos, and the blank-faced servants. He disappeared into the café, then reappeared a few moments later.</p><p>“Miss DelFino, my lord Orlov, I’ve arranged for a cart with the cook. They’ll drop us off at the post office.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. RedHawk,” Ulla said promptly, when Dimitri didn’t show any appreciation for his employee’s thoughtfulness. And here everyone said she didn’t have any social skills.</p><hr/><p>Jennet hissed with frustration and fear when the door of the waystation post office finally closed behind the two strangers. So. It had begun.</p><p>As she had feared, the raggedy girl had done…. Well, something. Neither of the strangers had been forthcoming about why they were looking for Yilanda DelFino. The drawings they provided didn’t look much like the raggedy girl. Yilanda DelFino was a fine lady in a fine tea frock, with beautifully arranged hair and beautiful, costly jewelry. The raggedy girl was a mess, with long braids coming undone at the ends because she didn’t even have string to tie them with. The raggedy girl drowned in a man’s coverall, ten sizes too big, cuffed up and worn to rags at her feet, stained and ancient. The raggedy girl’s nails were bitten, not manicured. The raggedy girl wore no makeup. The raggedy girl, if you weren’t observant, looked nothing like the drawings the strangers showed her.</p><p>But it was her.</p><p>Jennet was sure of it. Not that she had said so to those pushy strangers. She was a sworn representative of the Martian postal service and every citizen was treated the same. Courteously, professionally, and anonymously because it wasn’t the job of the postal service to act as the secret police. That was something they did on Olde Earthe.</p><p>The questions gnawed at her. Was the raggedy girl really Yilanda DelFino or a chance lookalike? It was impossible that a risto, a <em>DelFino </em>no less, would look anything like the raggedy girl, even if she were playing dress-up in a pantomime. Her nails would have been immaculate and she would have had perky ribbons tying her braids and colorful, ornamental patches adorning her spanking new coverall. Perhaps the raggedy girl had not been lying when she said her father was a DelFino and she and her brother were bastards. It would explain the chance resemblance in facial features. Born on the wrong side of the blanket meant they could never be ristos, no matter who their father was.</p><p>But what had the raggedy girl mailed to Charlton DelFino? She’d looked up his mailing address and it was a village about as far from DelFino Castle as it was possible to be. Almost all the way to Telduv, in fact. Practically outside of DelFino and inside the government corridors surrounding the vast demesne.</p><p>In any case, no mention was made of pearl jewelry or theft. She patted the ring, nestled in her bosom on Manco’s chain. And since the raggedy girl couldn’t be Yilanda DelFino, Jennet felt fully justified in saying she’d never seen the DelFino girl. It was obvious the raggedy girl had enough troubles of her own. She didn’t need more troubles heaped on her back from the servants of pushy DelFinos. They thought they were so clever, hiding their identity, but Jennet could recognize the look that said ‘trusted servant’. Merreth was a small town, but there were people with servants and they all had a certain air about them.</p><p>The conversation also told Jennet that it was time to visit the small library in the village hall and read the social columns in the Barsoom newspapers. She normally didn’t bother, but she needed to learn more about Yilanda DelFino and why people were looking for her. Just in case someone else came looking for missing pearl rings.</p><hr/><p>The pawnbroker stared at the pea-sized pearl in his hand. It gleamed iridescently, the way painted glass or carved bone never would. It was real or he was the most incompetent fence on Mars. He’d seen real pearls before. They were stolen of course, just like this one. Luckily, the scraggly teenager (with a braid hanging down to his ass of all things!) standing in front of him didn’t know what he had. It was time for this out-of-town fool to learn a lesson in the school of hard knocks.</p><p>“My, uh, girlfriend said she thought it was real,” Fen said anxiously. “I didn’t think so but even so, it is the prettiest bead I have ever seen. Is it worth anything?”</p><p>The pawnbroker looked sorrowful and sighed deeply, openly grieved by the bad news he had to deliver.</p><p>“I am so sorry to tell you this, but it’s painted glass. Decent quality to be sure, but essentially worthless.”</p><p>“Oh,” Fen said, crestfallen. “We really need money, yeah?”</p><p>The pawnbroker considered this carefully, keeping the pearl in his palm where he could continue to study it, rather than hand it back like cheap dross.</p><p>On the other side of the counter in the dingy shop, Fen watched him while trying hard to look like the ignorant runt of the litter. It was regrettably easy. He merely channeled how inadequate his older brothers and cousins made him feel, back home in HighTower.</p><p>“Your girlfriend, you said?” the pawnbroker said with raised eyebrows.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Fen answered. “She’s wonderful. I hope to bring her home with me.” Damnation, he thought. Why had he admitted that? And why was he calling Lannie his girlfriend when she was nothing of the kind no matter how he wanted it to be true?</p><p>The pawnbroker’s face shifted to an ingratiating smile. “Ah, young love. May I assume that your family doesn’t approve and hers may not either? I’ve never seen you before and I’ve not heard any gossip like this, so I assume neither of you are from around here?”</p><p>Fen gaped for a moment at how close to the truth the pawnbroker had come. “Yeah. How did you know?” he blurted out and wanted to wince again. He didn’t look anything like the people who lived in this section of Mars and the pawnbroker wasn’t blind.</p><p>“You reminded me of the past,” the pawnbroker said and sighed wistfully. “I ran away with my own dear wife decades ago, when we were young and in love and we made a wonderful life together, despite our families’ disapproval.” He smiled nostalgically and pointed to a small painted portrait of a smiling young couple hanging on the wall in back of him.</p><p>“That’s us, long ago.”</p><p>Fen studied the portrait. “Very nice.” The young lady was pretty and the young man did not resemble the pawnbroker in the slightest.</p><p>“I understand how difficult family opposition can be and I like to help out young lovers the way we were helped out. I’ll give you ten credits,” the pawnbroker said with another oily smile. He waited a beat while the scraggly stranger processed what he said.</p><p>“Thank you. That’s very generous for a worthless bead,” Fen said.</p><p>“As I said, I remember what it was like.” The pawnbroker waited another beat, then said, “Did your girlfriend only find one bead? Perhaps she found another? I would buy that one too, for another ten credits. To help you out the way we were helped out when we needed it.”</p><p>Fen grinned widely. “She did! I almost forgot. Let me fish it out.” He pulled out the tiny pouch and carefully removed a second pearl, leaving the rest in the bag, unseen. He displayed it between his fingertips, not quite willing to hand it over and wondering why when he needed coin far more than he needed pearls.</p><p>“Will twenty credits be enough to buy boots at the general store? And some socks?” Fen asked. He didn’t bother concealing his anxiety.</p><p>“I think so,” the pawnbroker said. “And if not, tell Joe that I sent you and to give you a good deal.”</p><p>“That is very generous of you,” Fen said, mind racing and afraid to let his realization show on his face.</p><p>“I enjoy helping people,” the pawnbroker said. He laid out twenty credits of coin on the countertop and held out his hand for the second pearl.</p><p>Fen stared at the coin, then at the pearl, and handed it over.</p><p>“Come back if your girlfriend finds any more of these painted glass beads.”</p><p>“Yes, sir, I will,” Fen said and tucked the coin into a pocket and headed out the door to the park.</p><p>The pawnbroker watched him go, the two pearls clutched in his hand. What an idiot that scraggly-bearded teenager was, not knowing what he had. He considered what he’d have to do next to safely extract the maximum value from the pearls. He’d have to travel to his contact in Barsoom to get the best price and it wouldn’t be anywhere near what the pearls were worth, but it would be hundreds of credits apiece. And whoever the pearls had been stolen from would have a harder time tracking them down in Barsoom than if he walked across the square to the jeweler in Weer and sold them to him. Although the jeweler would buy them in a heartbeat and no questions asked, either. Real pearls! It was just too bad the idiot’s girlfriend hadn’t stolen a few more pearls. Ten credits apiece! The bargain of a lifetime.</p><hr/><p>Fen ducked into the alley next to the pawnshop, out of sight for the moment and thinking hard. Lannie was telling the truth. The beads, the prettiest he had ever seen, were real pearls. No pawnshop dealer, no jeweler, no matter what horseshit they said about helping young lovers, would pay out ten credits apiece for worthless glass beads. The pawnbroker must think he was a complete fool. Well, let him. He also had to know the pearls were stolen but he didn’t care. How much would the pawnbroker get from reselling the pearls? It must be quite a lot considering the risk he was taking, accepting and reselling stolen jewelry.</p><p>He looked across the square to the small jeweler. Did he dare go over and try to sell another pearl? Especially if he only got ten credits for it? The pawnbroker said he’d be able to buy Lannie boots with twenty credits and even some socks.</p><p>More coin would be useful, but Lannie had stolen ten pearls in Barsoom from those damned DelFinos. They had to get out of town and back onto the steppes quickly. DelFino and Orlov too, were rich, rich, rich and could buy pearls by the bucket but they wouldn’t allow a theft like this one go unpunished. He and Lannie wouldn’t be safe until they got her boots and they were traveling northwards, towards home and safe anonymity. Let the pawnbroker take the risk, Fen decided. He would not; not here in Weer at any rate. It would be far safer to sell a pearl only when they needed coin, even though he would never be paid anything close to what a real pearl was worth. He’d only sell another pearl in Weer if he couldn’t get the boots.</p><hr/><p>Lannie ran out of the general store, wearing her new socks and boots and carrying three more pairs of socks. She had also gotten a package of monthly supplies for ladies but she didn’t plan on telling Fen as it was embarrassing. She’d wait until she had to have extra water to rinse them clean and then she’d figure out what to say.</p><p>“You were right,” she said as Fen lifted her up onto Coppertail. “Joe in the general store was thrilled to sell me the socks and boots even though they cost more than twenty credits. The pawnbroker must have told him.”</p><p>“Yeah. We have to get out of Weer.”</p><p>Lannie looked up at the sky as Fen led Coppertail at a brisk walk out of Weer and back towards the Pole-To-Pole Corridor. “I think the weather is clearing. I can walk now, with my new boots. They fit really well. Joe fussed over the fit, making me try on all the boots he had in stock that were close to my size.”</p><p>“Did he,” Fen said thoughtfully. “I wondered what was taking so long.”</p><p>Damnation. The pawnbroker was probably hoping he had more pearls than just those two he had sold. The pawnbroker might already be saying something to the sheriff in Weer about looking for them, claiming he’d refused stolen goods to make himself look good and then he’d ask if they’d been caught carrying other worthless glass beads. Or the pawnbroker could bribe the sheriff. The equator region wasn’t like the Ennaretee, where people were honest.</p><p>Decision made, he said “Coppertail’s had a good rest. We’ll ride pillion for a while. Get further away from Weer.” They’d also be a lot further along the Corridor road from Barsoom and when they left the road to camp on the steppes, no one would find them.</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Ulla meets Jennet and grills her</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The cart ride to the waystation post office was considerably faster and less muddy than walking. It was not drier since the cart was open to the elements as carts tended to be and the early morning drizzle refused to stop.</p><p>When they finally reached the waystation post office, Mr. RedHawk vaulted out of it, and helped Ulla down. It earned him a glare from Silas Avongale but Ulla was happy to have RedHawk’s aid. <em>He</em> didn’t openly expect anything from her. Unlike Silas who was becoming pushier about wanting to get to know her better, despite knowing full well that her main concern was finding Lannie and not wasting time on a tryst in a rundown village in the middle of nowhere.</p><p>Lannie, Ulla reflected as she watched an annoyed, soggy Silas leap out of the cart, had made the better choice when she’d fled Rastislav, despite the trauma it caused all around. She could say that now, because she knew Lannie had escaped Barsoom and was still alive. Or at least she’d been alive ten days ago. Eleven days ago, now. Would the postal clerk remember someone mailing a postcard? Had Lannie even gone into the post office to buy a postcard? She must have, because Lannie had escaped the cathedral in the flashy ballgown. Or wearing something else. Whatever Lannie had done, she hadn’t stopped to buy poor quality stationery along the way.</p><p>Ulla stopped short at the door of the post office, causing Mr. RedHawk to walk into her and apologize. How had Lannie paid for a postcard? Nothing was cheaper, but Lannie, except for the Pearls, was penniless. She wouldn’t have been foolish enough to trade the Pearls for a postcard and a stamp and if she had, the postal clerk wouldn’t admit it.</p><p>Damnation. There was her oath again, to not reveal the loss of the Pearls of Orlov. Ulla gritted her teeth. She was not her mother, to lie as it suited her and go back on her word when her circumstances changed.</p><p>Once inside the waystation post office, Ulla moved off to the side to drip dry and get a better feel for what Lannie might have done. She just didn’t have the imagination to think like Lannie would, leaping off in some unexpected direction. Maybe inspiration would strike.</p><p>This post office was pristine, a real surprise considering how the waystation next door to it was so dirty, it reeked despite the rain washing the exterior clean. Gods only knew what the inside of the waystation was like if it smelled so bad on the outside, like stables that had never been mucked out. The contrast between the buildings couldn’t have been greater. Inside the post office, the floor had been freshly mopped to keep up with the mud being tracked in, the mop and several buckets of sudsy water tucked in a corner for the next set of muddy footprints. Like hers.</p><p>Who had done this? The only person in the post office was the eagle-eyed young woman behind the counter. Her uniform and grooming were immaculate. The shelves filled with postal supplies behind her were as well-organized as anyone could want. Not a single speck of dust, cobweb, or terraformer marred the residents’ mail cubbies including those down at floor level or up at ceiling height. The countertops shone, the chains keeping the pens from escaping in someone’s pocket gleamed, the inkwells were scrubbed clean of stains.</p><p>Ulla smiled to herself. A clerk who paid this much attention to keeping a post office pristine would pay attention to her customers as well. This clerk, if properly motivated, might remember Lannie.</p><hr/><p>Charlton stood in front of the train station in Telduv, shredding himself internally. He could easily purchase a ticket with the money he’d earned selling part of the pearl earrings Lannie mailed to him. A lower second-class ticket would be cheap. Harry and Terrence could go back home with the proceeds and he could travel on alone. He had not forgotten how to dress himself or shave; he’d rarely enjoyed the services of a valet in the past and could manage just fine without one. All he had to do was send Harry and Terrence home and walk inside and buy a ticket. Easy. He would be gone for days; travel time to Merreth and back, and however long he spent in Merreth searching for his sister.</p><p>Lannie was alive, or she had been.</p><p>She was probably no longer in Merreth. She must be walking to Ranaglia. If she was still alive. Was she still traveling with whoever gave her the postcard? Some low-caste laborer from Panschin who wouldn’t have any idea how to treat Lannie DelFino. Some low-caste laborer who would rape and murder his sister the second he discovered she possessed the Pearls of Orlov. If he hadn’t already.</p><p>Thinking of Lannie, terrified and lost and alone, made agony roar through him again. His sister wasn’t stupid but she was inexperienced, naïve, oblivious to her surroundings. She’d be prey to a host of predators on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor road and it was his fault.</p><p>And if he bought the ticket and went to Merreth, Harry was honor-bound to report his dereliction of duty to Uncle Jorge. Jorge would report to Zachery and by the time he returned from Merreth, Zachery would have awarded his estates to someone else in the family. Someone like Walter. Walter would be competent enough, but Walter wouldn’t care the way he did. Walter didn’t think much of his peasants and would not understand the relationship he had with his village headman, Paco. Walter regarded peasants the same way he regarded livestock: useful, necessary, needing care to assure the best possible return on his investment, but not having any thoughts or concerns of their own.</p><p>Who asked the opinion of a sheep whether or not it wanted to be sheared? A pig if it wanted to be butchered? Lucky male calves got gelded and became oxen and no one bothered to ask their consent. It was that or being eaten, their normal fate, because a village only needed a few bulls to service many, many cows. Livestock did not rate a viewpoint.</p><p>Walter didn’t see peasants as human beings.</p><p>Charlton considered the other possibilities in DelFino; cousins who, like Walter, had no hereditary estates of their own. Walter came from one of the collateral lines where you could, if you were lucky, hardworking, intelligent, and ambitious, climb the DelFino hierarchy like Zachery had done, yet you still could not acquire land of your own. Not now and maybe not for decades. DelFino was currently in one of those generation-long dry spells, where virgin land was left uncolonized until money and population grew enough to make it worth the investment. Simeon was the most likely possibility since he had been pushing to open up the frontiers. Simeon would leap at the chance to own proven, settled estates and pass them down to his own sons. But like Walter, Simeon didn’t see peasants as people. Worse, unlike Walter, Simeon had not been trained to run every aspect of an estate. Simeon’s struggles would lead to almost certain famine and finish the ruin of his estates that dad and Mistress Vaughn had started.</p><p>Zachery, for all his faults, had been very careful to train his only son in estate management. It was almost as though he expected Walter to seize control of land of his own. Zachery would not hesitate, even if it meant losing his reelection as daimyo at the Winter Solstice. His grandchildren (and there would be grandchildren thanks to Walter marrying Naomi Khan) would have hereditary land of their own. Gaining land for their direct family line was worth losing power. Established land in DelFino didn’t get seized and awarded to someone else. Not unless the landholder was amazingly incompetent like Albion DelFino had been and there were no heirs and even then, a sensible daimyo treaded carefully and planned ahead.</p><p>Charlton clenched his fists, ignoring Harry and Terrence waiting patiently behind him with the wagons loaded with desperately needed supplies. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t ignore reality.</p><p>Jorge was correct. Zachery wouldn’t hesitate to seize his estates and pass them along to Walter or someone else and then he, Charlton, would be exiled along with Iolanthe and mama. Somewhere, but not necessarily together at Ranaglia. Mama had maintained ties so they would repatriate her but his reputation as the black sheep of DelFino branded him as useless deadweight. He would be refused and so would Iolanthe. Iolanthe’s mother was from Deengar, but Orlov had cut ties, her mother had been dead for years, and they would be refused. Where could he and Iolanthe find refuge? They had the earrings to sell, but his estates and his peasants desperately needed that coin. And then his peasants, over a hundred of them, would be handed over to someone who didn’t know them and wouldn’t care and didn’t have the money to rebuild.</p><p>Lannie, Charlton thought. Tears stung his eyes and grief dug its razor-tipped claws in deeper. Oh Lannie. I failed you and I’m going to fail you again. I have to go home to save everyone else and I can’t save you. You will never forgive me and I have to live the rest of my life knowing I failed you.</p><p>He forced his hands loosen and exhaled slowly, deeply, and blinked back tears, choking down grief and fury as he tried to school his face. Then at last, he was able to turn, face Harry and Terrence and speak without his voice closing up and betraying him.</p><p>“We’ll go home.”</p><p>It was the right thing to do. Honor and duty demanded it. It choked and gagged and suffocated like eating through a mountain of shit.</p><hr/><p>Ulla snarled silently. While she had been evaluating the post office and its clerk, working out what she would say, Dimitri the moron had plunged right in.</p><p>He was waving Orlov’s reward poster of Lannie at the visibly annoyed clerk and loudly demanding that she produce Lannie at once. The only pleasure was in watching Mr. RedHawk’s face. He was annoyed too, probably because he would have been able to question the postal clerk without upsetting her.</p><p>“I did not see that woman so quit screaming at me!” the postal clerk shouted back. “I am a professional and if you continue to harass me, risto lordling or not, I will complain to the Martian Postal Service about your behavior!”</p><p>“Do you know who I am?” Dimitri yelled louder, frustrated into unreasoning fury. His fists were up as though he were fighting in the ring.</p><p>He was so <em>close</em>; Lannie had been here and she might still have the Pearls of Orlov and that meant he could save Orlov. This ridiculous, over-fastidious woman was keeping him from rescuing his entire demesne from certain doom. Every day that he didn’t find Lannie meant the chance of losing the Pearls for good increased. Bankruptcy loomed. Starvation for the serfs. Humiliation in front of the Four Hundred. No marriages for the sons of Orlov bringing in desperately needed dowries and fresh genes. No marriages out for the daughters of Orlov, leaving them trapped and barren. The collapse of everything his family had built since founding the demesne generations ago. He could not blame Rastislav for this particular fiasco here in this wide spot in the road, other than it was that damned sot’s fault that he was here in the first place. And this fussy, lowly postal clerk was getting in his way. Disaster. Ruin. Catastrophe. He had to retrieve the Pearls or die trying.</p><p>“No, I do not know who you are. And I don’t care who you are,” the clerk said coldly. “I am a professional. I treat everyone who comes into my post office the same, whether high or low. Politely, courteously, and anonymously. Your behavior, sir, is a reminder of exactly why free citizens living in the corridors will never set foot on any demesne. You ristos want to enslave us like you’ve enslaved your unlucky peasants.”</p><p>Dimitri reared back, incensed even more. This ignorant clerk understood nothing of the obligation a lord had to his serfs or to his land. Blood pounded in his ears. Then she delivered the killing blow, making everyone listening suck in their breath in horror.</p><p>“You, sir, are behaving as badly as those rapacious bloodsucking bastards from <em>Olde Earthe</em>.”</p><p>Dimitri stopped cold. “I am not like them,” he answered, when he was calm enough to speak without swearing terribly. His voice was icier than hers.</p><p>“Are you sure? You are asking me, a representative of the Martian Postal Service to behave like the secret police, keeping dossiers on the citizens. How dare you.”</p><p>“Sir?” RedHawk laid a calming hand on Dimitri’s shoulder. “May I intervene? I am also a professional. That’s why you hired me.”</p><p>“I,” Dimitri stopped and swore again; viciously, profanely, soul-searing and trapped.</p><p>He let his fists drop to his sides. He struggled to regain his self-control, the only thing keeping him from dragging the clerk from behind the counter and beating her until she confessed where she was hiding Lannie and the Pearls of Orlov. He caught a glimpse of Ulla’s appalled face. He was going barking mad and any minute he’d start bellowing like the sot in one of his drunken rages. If he behaved like the sot, he became the sot and then Madame Orlov would haunt his dreams. He was better than that murdering sot, who had carelessly, drunkenly shoved his mother down a flight of stairs and killed her and his baby brother. Damn this clerk. She knew nothing of why he had to find Lannie and she could never know why or Orlov was ruined. Damn them all and damn the Pearls for blighting what Orlov should have been.</p><p>“Do that,” Dimitri spat out. He stepped away from the counter, breathing heavily. “I will wait outside.”</p><p>RedHawk, Ulla, and Silas watched Dimitri stomp outside, his face a mask of fury.</p><p>The postal clerk was obviously a hardened veteran at dealing with unruly customers. She announced “I do not give out personal information <em>about</em> anyone <em>to</em> anyone.” Nonetheless, the tremble in her voice betrayed her; Dimitri Orlov was far worse than what she normally experienced.</p><p>RedHawk approached her.</p><p>“I understand, Jennet.”</p><p>“How did you? Oh, my nametag,” Jennet answered.</p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” RedHawk said.</p><p>Ulla watched with interest as RedHawk slowly neared the counter, moving like a man working with a skittish filly, keeping his hands visible and his voice low and soothing. This was the second time she’d seen John RedHawk actually interact with a potential witness during the search for Lannie. The postal clerk was far more hostile than the café staff had been. <em>They</em> had been openly curious. She might finally learn why Dimitri had hired Parminder Investigations from all the possibilities in Barsoom. He had refused to say, despite her probing questions and naturally, so did Mr. Parminder and Mr. RedHawk, citing client confidentiality, darn them.</p><p>“I must apologize for my employer, Dimitri Orlov. He’s under enormous stress.”</p><p>“That’s not my problem,” Jennet replied sharply. “Stress doesn’t give him the right to abuse postal employees or anyone else.”</p><p>“I understand, Jennet, and you are correct. I’m John RedHawk with Parminder Investigations and my lord Dimitri hired me to find Yilanda DelFino.”</p><p>“Let me guess,” Jennet said sourly. “Now that I’ve seen that vicious risto lordling in action. Yilanda DelFino didn’t want to be his punching bag and ran for it and he’s pissed off that she had enough smarts to dump him.”</p><p>RedHawk smiled placatingly. “It wasn’t exactly like that.”</p><p>“Close enough,” Ulla snarled, interrupting him as she headed for the counter.</p><p>“Please, Miss DelFino,” RedHawk said. “Let me handle this.”</p><p>Silas suddenly pulled Ulla closer and she angrily tried to shake him off, but he pulled her closer still, his strong arms wrapped around her shoulders. He whispered, “let RedHawk sooth the clerk. She might be more willing to talk to you if RedHawk calms her down first.”</p><p>Ulla glared at Silas in consternation. He was far too close, his body pressed against hers. He smiled and added softly “I am a frontrunner at Avongale for many reasons. We can be a fractious bunch so trust me on this.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ulla said and turned her attention back to how RedHawk was gentling the postal clerk. No, Jennet. The woman had a name. Then she added, so only Silas could hear, “You may be right. Get your hands off me anyway.”</p><p>“Of course, my lady.” Silas let go and smiled at her, a smile that promised more if she wanted it. Which she didn’t. But he was, Ulla reflected, being helpful and she needed help in finding Lannie.</p><p>“So what was it like then?” Jennet sniped. “I can recognize a liar when I hear one and by the way, my customers come first. What do you need today, Mrs. Tubbek?”</p><p>A tired-looking, older woman edged closer to the other end of the counter, giving everyone else in the room a wide berth.</p><p>“Some stamps?” she asked hesitantly, eying RedHawk who looked classy but still somewhat normal and Ulla DelFino and Silas Avongale who, while rain-soaked, were obviously at least twenty social classes above her and wildly out of place in the Merreth waystation post office.</p><p>“It’s my pleasure.” Jennet smiled graciously. “How’s your daughter’s new baby?”</p><p>Jennet and Mrs. Tubbek made small talk as they conducted their business. Ulla waited and watched and saw how RedHawk didn’t look threatening or angry at the interruption. He waited patiently and calmly, as though he had all the time in the world. So, this was how a professional investigator asked questions of unwilling people. She’d have to try it herself when she returned to Barsoom, if they didn’t find Lannie.</p><p>At last Mrs. Tubbek left with her stamps and RedHawk again approached the counter.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri hired my firm,” he began and then told Jennet the story of how Yilanda DelFino jilted Rastislav, the daimyo of Orlov and how desperate the daimyo was to find her, not because he would force her to marry him but because he was afraid of what might have happened to her. RedHawk did not, Ulla noted, describe Rastislav or mention his reputation.</p><p>When he finished, Jennet said, “he fell in love with her at first sight? That’s why he’s doing this? You really expect me to believe that load of tripe?”</p><p>“The daimyo of Orlov is deeply concerned about Miss DelFino’s safety as is all of Orlov. She is a DelFino so it is not as if Miss Yilanda is a penniless, powerless street girl. Yet we cannot find her, Jennet, and for her own safety, we must,” RedHawk concluded earnestly.</p><p>“I guess that’s why DelFino is looking for her too?”</p><p>Ulla blinked and stiffened but RedHawk looked unsurprised. “I would assume so. Has someone else spoken with you, Jennet?”</p><p>“Yeah. Two guys were waiting for me when I opened the post office. They wouldn’t tell me why they wanted to find her so badly, though.”</p><p>“DelFino is anxious to avoid more scandal and they are deeply concerned about their lost daughter as I’m sure you understand. Did they tell you who they were, Jennet?” RedHawk said smoothly.</p><p>“No, but they were servants. They had that look. They weren’t together either. Or they were, but not exactly.”</p><p>“I am so happy you are telling me this, Jennet,” RedHawk said. “I can assure the daimyo of Orlov that DelFino is, as they promised, searching for Miss Yilanda as well.”</p><p>“They should be,” Jennet replied, mollified.</p><p>“May I give you a poster asking for information about Miss Yilanda? The waystation post office sees a vast array of travelers and someone may have seen her.”</p><p>“Sure. We have a public bulletin board.”</p><p>“Thank you, Jennet,” RedHawk said and swiftly revealed a large poster of Yilanda DelFino’s smiling face.</p><p>“This is different from the ones those servants tried to give me this morning,” Jennet said after studying the poster.</p><p>“Different images can be useful in jogging memories,” RedHawk told her.</p><p>“I didn’t see this woman,” Jennet said.</p><p>This picture of Yilanda DelFino looked more like the raggedy girl, but that didn’t mean the raggedy girl was Yilanda DelFino. And RedHawk wasn’t telling her the entire story. She was sure of it. She’d stop at the village hall and read the Barsoom newspapers as soon as she closed the post office. They would be more accurate than anything he was saying.</p><p>“Thank you, Jennet,” RedHawk said. “If you remember anything, please inform me at once. My card.”</p><p>“Sure.” Jennet looked at the card and tucked it in a pocket. The poster offered a nice reward for information about Yilanda DelFino but even so, the two women couldn’t be the same. The raggedy girl didn’t need more troubles and if Orlov or DelFino found the raggedy girl, she might tell them that she’d sold Jennet the luminously beautiful pearl ring she had stolen. No, no need to say a word.</p><p>Ulla’s mind raced. If Lannie had set foot inside the post office, Jennet had seen her. Anyone this observant and meticulous would notice someone out of the ordinary. Jennet must see all kinds of transients as well as the population of Merreth but even so, Lannie was obviously not the type of low-caste person who walked to Northernmost. All she had to do was open her mouth and speak. She had to have a few minutes alone with Jennet.</p><p>“Silas?” Ulla whispered, despite having to get much closer to him than she wanted to. It would give him more ideas along the lines of the one he’d already made clear at the hotel desk the night before. But she could use him. He wanted her and she wanted to find Lannie and she would do what she needed to do. It would be fun — not as fun as Yair but she’d never see Yair again and she had no idea what it would be like kissing Yair and she shoved memories of him away to focus — and if she did marry Silas, well, she’d have a much better idea of what she was getting before any formal, public, irrevocable statements were made. She’d have plenty of time to back out.</p><p>“Yes, my darling?” Silas said with a hopeful gleam in his eye.</p><p>Aunt Ottilie was right, Ulla thought. Men were like dogs.</p><p>“I have to talk to Jennet in private. Keep RedHawk and Dimitri outside of the post office.”</p><p>He arched an eyebrow. “And in exchange?”</p><p>“I’ll give you what you want.”</p><p>“I want a lot.”</p><p>“I want to find Lannie. I failed her, Silas and I will not fail Lannie again,” Ulla said firmly, meeting his granite gray eyes unflinchingly. “She could be lying dead in some ditch and <em>I have to find her</em>.”</p><p>“This is why I want to marry you, Ulla. You’re not just another well-connected, pretty face. You are more.”</p><p>“Yeah. Sure. Keep those two outside.”</p><p>Silas left her, said something to RedHawk and they both left the post office. As soon as the door closed behind them, Ulla raced to the counter.</p><p>“You’re going to feed me the same ridiculous tripe?” Jennet asked.</p><p>“No. I’m Ulla DelFino and Lannie is my cousin. That’s what we call her in the family. Lannie, not Yilanda. Yeah, she jilted the daimyo of Orlov and for darn good reasons, let me tell you, and then she ran and I am so afraid she’s lying dead in some ditch because Lannie panicked and I have to find her. I can’t fail my cousin again. I just can’t.” The words poured out in a flood. Ulla sucked in air and added “I can’t tell you why they’re looking for Lannie because I swore I wouldn’t but I can tell you why I’m looking for Lannie. I love her. She’s my cousin and my friend and I failed her and I will not fail her again. If you know anything about Lannie’s whereabouts, I have to know. Please help me.”</p><p>“I didn’t see Yilanda DelFino,” Jennet said.</p><p>“She probably didn’t look like that poster that RedHawk is passing around. It’s been weeks since Lannie ran from the cathedral and we don’t know where she’s been or who she’s been with so I doubt her hair is fashionably styled anymore. And whatever she’s wearing, it’s not a tea frock. Our only information is the postcard she mailed from here.”</p><p>Ulla stopped and met Jennet’s sharp hazel eyes. “You pay attention to things. You are detail-oriented. I can tell. Your post office is the best maintained one I’ve ever seen. Your grooming and uniform are immaculate. You knew who that customer was and I bet you know every regular customer by name. You notice things and if you noticed Lannie, please write to me at once. My card with both my addresses. I have to save Lannie.”</p><p>“So there’s something else going on?” Jennet asked suspiciously.</p><p>“I can’t talk about it. I swore I wouldn’t. But they don’t care about Lannie like I do. Not Orlov and, I’m sorry to say, not DelFino either. I care, and Lannie’s brother Charlton cares. They don’t.”</p><p>Charlton DelFino! Jennet’s eyes widened.</p><p>“If her brother, Charlton you said?” Jennet asked carefully.</p><p>Ulla nodded.</p><p>“If Charlton DelFino cares, then where is he?”</p><p>“He can’t leave his estates or he’ll lose them. He’s got over a hundred people depending on him. I have freedom of movement. Charlton doesn’t. His father, well, it’s in all the social columns and it keeps getting worse what Albion DelFino did to his immediate family and to their estates, the lying bastard.” Ulla stopped and bit her lip. “So I’m here for Charlton too. Please, if you remember anything, anything at all, write to me. I’ll pay a reward too because I want Lannie safe at home more than anything.”</p><p>“And they don’t?” Jennet asked slowly.</p><p>Ulla breathed out slowly, shuddering as she did and blinking back tears. “No. Not like I do or Charlton does. None of them. Please, Jennet. If you remember anything, tell me. Please.”</p><p>“All right,” Jennet said. “If I remember.”</p><p>She had to find a reason to close the post office early. It was apparent she’d have to read every newspaper from Barsoom going back weeks to find out what had happened with Yilanda DelFino. And her brother, Charlton DelFino. DelFino, Gods save her, the biggest and most powerful demesne there was. Their border came frighteningly close to Merreth. She did not want to get their attention, any more than anyone in town did. The raggedy girl either studied the gossip columns to use DelFino names correctly or she really was Yilanda DelFino and she’d lied by telling the truth about her father being a lying bastard.</p><p>“Thank you, Jennet. Keep my card and if Orlov or DelFino try to cause you trouble I will do my very best to help you and your family. I swear it on my name, Ulla Tisdale DelFino.”</p><hr/><p>“Lannie,” Fen said. “We need to talk.”</p><p>She glanced up at him, glad for a break from gnawing on those darned mil-rats even if his expression, lit by firelight, made her tense. They’d ridden Coppertail pillion for hours, Fen pushing the gelding almost as hard as when they’d fled Barsoom and he’d waited until after sunset to leave the Corridor road and make camp in the steppes. He hadn’t said a word other than what was needful until now, not even when he insisted on checking her feet to be sure her new boots had not irritated the healing skin.</p><p>She stretched out her bare feet, wiggling her toes and enjoying the warmth from the tiny fire. She’d gotten used to not wearing anything and the boots, despite clean socks and fitting reasonably well, were confining.</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. Let him go first.</p><p>“Water’s boiling. Tea?” He poured boiling water over the pinch of dried mint in his kuksa and offered it to her. A good sign, Lannie thought. He was still treating her like a guest, like she mattered.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>He heaved a gusty sigh, openly uncomfortable.</p><p>“Lannie, those pearls were real. That pawnshop owner cheated me and I knew he was cheating me and I’m afraid that he might have told the sheriff in Weer about us.”</p><p>Lannie’s hands started shaking and she carefully set down the kuksa rather than spill hot tea in her lap. “Really?” she squeaked.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Fen replied. “But he asked me specifically if you had more of those pretty painted glass beads. He knew what they were and he wants more. They must be worth thousands of credits.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Lannie said honestly. “I know real pearls are worth a lot of money and I know the bigger the pearl, the more they’re worth.”</p><p>Thousands of credits. Gleesh. How much money would Charlton get for the pearl earrings she had mailed him? Those pearls were smaller, but there were dozens and those tiny diamonds, the jade leaves, and the gold were all worth still more coin. How much money was she carrying in her coverall pockets in the form of the Pearls of Orlov? Enough to buy a demesne? Enough to repave every road on Mars?</p><p>Her throat went dry. She picked up the kuksa and sipped and realization flooded over her.</p><p>The future stretched out before her, dreadful and clear.</p><p>Orlov would hunt her forever.</p><p>They would never stop. She would never be safe or free until Orlov retrieved the Pearls, every last one of them including the earrings she’d mailed to Charlton, the ring she’d sold to the postal clerk, the two pearls the pawnshop owner bought, and her body rotted in an unmarked grave. The Pearls meant everything to Orlov; they were its symbol and talisman. Everyone had told her endlessly about how inconceivably valuable they were and what a privilege it was for her to become the daimyah of Orlov and wear the Pearls and she hadn’t paid any attention.</p><p>What had she done to the Orlov demesne when she’d stolen them? To its people? To herself?</p><p>She didn’t realize she’d begun to cry until Fen said, “don’t cry, Lannie. I won’t let them hurt you.”</p><p>He didn’t know what he was promising and she couldn’t tell him.</p><p>“Lannie, I know you stole these pearls but how? Were you a maid in DelFino?” Fen asked.</p><p>“Sort of,” Lannie said. “We were in Barsoom.” She gave him an anxious smile. She had to pick her way carefully, trusting that daddy, that rotted ham, was right when he said stick to the truth as much as possible when telling entertaining stories so you could remember the details better.</p><p>“I was at the cathedral. Orlov saw me. The daimyo, I mean.”</p><p>“What?” Fen said. “The <em>daimyo</em>? In a <em>cathedral</em>?” Hellation. It fit with what he’d been told about equator aristocratic families. They took what they wanted, cared nothing for holy ground, and no mere maid could refuse them. Lannie, so pretty and sweet, with her big brown eyes and long, dark hair. It was natural that the daimyo of Orlov wanted her, no matter what she had to say about it.</p><p>Lannie nodded. “DelFino wouldn’t protect me. I ran. I stole the coverall because I had to wear something. I saw the pearls.” She swallowed hard and more tears leaked out. “They were so beautiful. I wanted them.”</p><p>It was such a relief to confess the truth, even if only a tiny portion of what she had done.</p><p>Fen took her shaking hands in his, steadying the kuksa so she didn’t spill the rapidly cooling tea all over herself.</p><p>“Go on.”</p><p>Lannie’s experience had been as bad as he’d suspected. DelFino didn’t protect their own servants and they should have. As much trouble as his own family got up to, the safety and sanctity of their vassals was never in question. No one in HighTower would betray their vassals, allowing them to be used against their will.</p><p>“I needed money and I had nothing and I guess I hoped I could sell the pearls and get to Northernmost. I knew they were worth a lot and I just didn’t think,” Lannie wailed. “I wanted them. They sang to me because they’re so beautiful and someone as awful as the daimyo of Orlov shouldn’t have anything as beautiful as pearls.”</p><p>“They sang to you.”</p><p>Fen fished out the tiny pouch holding his salt and the remaining eight pearls and picked them out, holding in his cupped palm and letting firelight and starlight illuminate them. They glimmered and shone, lit from within, and his shaking hand made them shiver and dance.</p><p>With his other hand, he groped for the kuksa and swallowed soothing, restful tea. The memory of handing the two pearls to the pawnshop dealer struck him. He had not wanted to. He had wanted to stuff the pearls back into the pouch with their fellows and run out of the pawnshop, despite knowing how badly Lannie needed boots. He’d not had much to do with the GroveMaster of HighTower in the past but the pearls were … strange. He needed to find out more from an expert in the unseen world.</p><p>“I think I understand,” Fen said reluctantly, breaking the spell. “They seem alive.”</p><p>Lannie nodded vigorously. “They do. And, and, it’s scary. They’re just jewelry. Fancy <em>beads</em>. I took them and I knew that I shouldn’t and I couldn’t seem to stop myself.” The Pearls of Orlov had enthralled her so much that when Rastislav ran his hands over her body as he adorned her with them in the cathedral, she had not run away screaming. She had stood there, frozen, and let him paw her because of the Pearls.</p><p>“That’s worrisome,” Fen concluded. “We’ll have to be careful because Orlov won’t forgive you for stealing the pearls and DelFino will back them up because you shamed them. Although they should be ashamed of themselves for what they let happen to you.”</p><p>“Yes, they should,” Lannie agreed. “None of it was what I wanted. I knew that man would rape me and beat me to death. I ran. And I stole the coverall and the boots and the pearls.”</p><p>“You did what was needful, Lannie, so don’t feel guilty.”</p><p>He couldn’t believe he’d just condoned theft, especially for something not vital for staying alive, but there it was.</p><p>“What should we do?” Lannie asked.</p><p>“Be careful about showing those pearls,” Fen said. “You got boots and socks and we’ll keep traveling north. DelFino and Orlov won’t find us. We’ll get to Darnay just fine.” And by then, I might have talked you into coming to HighTower with me. And if those eight pearls are each worth a few thousand credits, then my family won’t say one damned word against welcoming you into the family. If you’ll have me.</p><p>Lannie couldn’t stop beaming with relief. Fen wasn’t going to hurt her over the pearls. By the time they reached Darnay, she might be able to talk him into taking her to HighTower. He wasn’t highly placed in the family and she had no family backing of her own, not anymore, but the pearls would buy her way in.</p><p>She would see Fen every day. He would help her find her place there. And maybe, just maybe, something more might appear. The thought struck her. Did Fen have a girlfriend? Or a fiancé? He was young for a fiancée arranged by his family, but not a girlfriend.</p><p>If he did have a girlfriend, he wouldn’t be spending much time with her. She’d be the girl he helped at the livery stable and nothing more.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. We need to get up and get dressed because I am not leaving this train naked.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ulla left the Merreth waystation post office fretful and conflicted over what to do next. Who else could have seen Lannie in Merreth? She studied the waystation next door. It reeked, even through the drizzle. She’d heard of government-run waystations and had assumed they would be smartly maintained. Free-city taxpayers paid for them, after all, yet it didn’t look like they got their money’s worth.</p><p>Disgusting. She’d never seen a more poorly maintained building and that included Charlton’s stables; hitherto the worst she’d ever seen or smelled until she began canvassing the back alleys of Barsoom.</p><p>But if anyone else had seen Lannie, it would be there. Or possibly in Merreth, but the staff at the café had seen nothing. Mr. RedHawk had questioned everyone present including the other customers, showed his wanted poster, and pinned several more to the café’s bulletin board. Would Lannie have walked over into the village? It seemed doubtful, especially since she must be desperate to reach sanctuary in Ranaglia and wouldn’t waste time sightseeing.</p><p>Would Lannie have set foot in such a disgusting place? Ulla recalled teaching Lannie everything about running a manor house. Her cousin had avoided filthy areas like the plague. She automatically began chewing on a fingernail.</p><p>“Ulla,” Silas said, interrupting her thoughts and making her startle and whip her hand away from her mouth and wish she’d packed gloves, pesky as they were to wear.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The waystation staff insist they saw nothing,” he replied.</p><p>“You asked?” Ulla said, astonished.</p><p>“Not exactly. RedHawk marched over there. I talked Dimitri into tagging along rather than letting him browbeat that postal clerk some more and I listened carefully. What’s going on?”</p><p>Ulla frowned at the mucky ground, then at the watering troughs outside the waystation which needed to be scrubbed clean, then at the stables next to the waystation, which required an army of men with pitchforks and push-brooms to muck them out <em>immediately</em>.</p><p>“You heard Mr. RedHawk in the post office,” she answered finally. It wasn’t a lie.</p><p>“Yes, I did and what a stinking load of codswallop that was,” Silas said. “When I was told we were to be introduced, I read up on DelFino in the columns and that led directly to Lannie and the daimyo of Orlov. I refuse to believe Rastislav fell madly in love with her at first sight.”</p><p>“You don’t think people can fall in love at first sight?” Ulla asked.</p><p>He winked at her. “I’m sure they can, but I don’t believe Rastislav is capable of finer emotions. I also don’t believe Dimitri would want Rastislav to marry a potentially fertile teenager because that gets Orlov saddled with another worthless daimyo along with plenty of spare heirs. That could happen if he finds Lannie.”</p><p>“If <em>we</em> find Lannie, she won’t change her mind,” Ulla said firmly. “And if we find Lannie, I will do anything to keep her safe from that horrible geezer drunkard.”</p><p>“Anything?”</p><p>Ulla didn’t flinch. “Anything.”</p><p>“I’ll remember that.”</p><p>“Silas,” Dimitri interrupted them, looming over Silas’s shoulder like an ominous thunderhead rising to the heavens. “Ulla is now one of <em>my</em> relatives. What is your interest?”</p><p>“Oh, you care about Ulla’s wellbeing despite being happy to sacrifice Lannie to your daimyo’s lusts?” Silas purred. “Isn’t Lannie your sister-in-law because of who <em>your</em> sister married? How very peculiar.”</p><p>“That was different,” Dimitri grated out.</p><p>“Do explain the difference. Inquiring minds want to know.”</p><p>The two young men glared at each other.</p><p>“We are wasting time,” Ulla shouted. “Mr. RedHawk, where do you propose we go next, since the waystation staff claim they didn’t see Lannie?” Thank you, Mr. RedHawk for reappearing when I needed you and thank you, Dimitri, you moron, she thought. I don’t to think up a lie about those wretched Pearls.</p><p>“I’ll be staying here, investigating. Preferably without well-meaning interference. May I respectfully suggest you, my lord Dimitri, and lord Avongale return to Barsoom?” RedHawk replied. It was amusing to watch ristos squabble but they got in his way.</p><p>“And who’s going to inform me if you find Lannie?” Ulla demanded.</p><p>Silas took up his now preferred position next to her, going so far as to wrap his arm around her waist. “We’ll stay.”</p><p>“All of us will stay,” Dimitri said, his face furious. He’d beat the information out of that snotty postal clerk if he had to, but he probably couldn’t if RedHawk was hovering over him. The private investigator worked for him, but Merreth was a free-city and RedHawk knew it and he knew his obligations as a free-citizen.</p><p>The postal clerk was the last person to see Lannie alive. She was holding something back. Dimitri was sure of it, as sure as he knew Orlov was heading for ruination if he didn’t retrieve the Pearls.</p><hr/><p>Jennet spent the rest of a very busy day, either attending to a constant stream of customers or mopping the mud-tracked floors after them. When she had a spare moment, she considered her options.</p><p>If the raggedy girl was Yilanda DelFino, she wouldn’t turn her over to Dimitri Orlov. Not for any amount of money. Luckily, she could make that decision with a cheerful heart because Orlov was so far away, they held no power over Merreth. Mr. RedHawk was very nice and polite but he worked for that vicious risto, so nice or not, he didn’t deserve any further information either.</p><p>That left Ulla DelFino, a much more difficult option to parse out.</p><p>Ulla seemed to genuinely care about her cousin’s wellbeing. She’d admitted she couldn’t tell the entire story. She’d arrived at the post office as soon as she could get the lordlings moving and she’d not waited for the rain to stop. (The café waitress had stopped by, eager to gossip.) And then there were her fingernails. Ulla DelFino, Jennet thought, was not the type of person to chew her nails to the quick but she’d obviously been doing just that. She was deeply worried about Yilanda, no, Lannie DelFino. She, a risto DelFino, had shared her cousin’s nickname with a common postal clerk.</p><p>Ulla was also a DelFino.</p><p>Merreth was a free-city but in reality, it was a powerless wide spot in the road and perilously near DelFino’s western border. Did DelFino control any parts of the town? The bank, the shoe factory, or the grain mill? They had their tentacles all over the place. The Four Hundred were supposed to stay out of government corridors, but everyone knew they invested their money all kinds of places in the corridors. That gave them unexpected pull in unexpected places.</p><p>Ulla DelFino could cause her, her relatives, and her village real trouble.</p><p>But she had sworn on her name to help her. So. Ulla DelFino expected Orlov to cause trouble or possibly DelFino. But <em>she</em> wouldn’t. It could be useful to have an ally in DelFino.</p><p>Those fingernails. Jennet shook her head. Ulla DelFino had to be tearing herself apart, yet she hadn’t been abusive the way Dimitri Orlov had been.</p><hr/><p>Jennet closed up the post office exactly on time and ran to the village hall. The town’s clerk had gotten her message and laid out the pertinent Barsoom newspapers for her. She sat down and started reading the social columns, beginning with the oldest newspaper.</p><p>Good Gods above, she thought, when she finished. The raggedy girl was Yilanda DelFino and she hadn’t lied when she said she and her brother were the children of a lying bastard. But what was she doing in Merreth?</p><p>No wonder Orlov was looking for her and it wasn’t that load of tripe Mr. RedHawk tried to feed her. Jennet touched the beautiful pearl ring, strung on Manco’s betrothal chain and concealed by her uniform.</p><p>It was obvious. The raggedy girl had stolen a tiny portion of the Pearls of Orlov when she fled the cathedral. She had the evidence nestled in her bosom.</p><p>It had to be true because Orlov was famous for the Pearls and the daimyo of Orlov would have brought part of the set with him for use during the marriage ceremony. Perhaps more than just the ring. What had been in the little box that the raggedy girl mailed to Charlton DelFino? Another ring? A brooch? A pearl necklace? The raggedy girl, no, Lannie DelFino, had been desperate to mail the box. She knew how valuable the ring was but she couldn’t wait to find a jeweler and get a better price. That meant there was something even more valuable in the little box than the beautiful pearl ring. It also meant that Lannie DelFino knew how badly her brother needed coin and lots of it.</p><p>“Albion DelFino, you bastard,” Jennet said aloud and winced when Anju, the town hall clerk, looked over at her from her desk.</p><p>“Isn’t that the most amazing story?” Anju asked. “As soon as I got your message, I read all the columns myself. He poisoned his wife! The lying bastard might get away with it too, as long as he never sets foot in DelFino again.”</p><p>Jennet thought of the column where Charlton DelFino talked about his father’s unpaid gambling debts.</p><p>“Maybe not,” Jennet said. “It all depends on who he owes money to. The second he got banned from DelFino, he lost their protection. He’s fair game.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Anju said and then she thankfully turned back to her paperwork.</p><p>Jennet returned to the newspapers and read the columns again but this time with only half her attention. She had to come up with a story that would divert attention from her, from her family, from Merreth, let her keep the beautiful pearl ring, and protect the raggedy girl as much as she could. The raggedy girl was a customer of the postal service and as such, deserved to be treated like everyone else: fairly.</p><p>She could interpret the handwriting on the wall. If she didn’t come up with a plausible story, she would be hounded unmercifully since she was the last person who might have seen Lannie DelFino alive. The real question was how much time would Dimitri Orlov grant her before he returned, demanding answers, and how abusive would he be.</p><hr/><p>The two-day journey back from Telduv was miserable and not just because when it wasn’t drizzling, it was raining. The road was a sea of mud and ruts and with each slow klick forward, Charlton tried to focus on how he could repair it.</p><p>At last, at last, at last, the village loomed out of the damp fog, looking worse than ever. Damn his father and Mistress Vaughn too. Lannie, Charlton thought. I failed you.</p><p>“Charlton! My lord, you came home!” Paco appeared out of the fog, looking overwhelmed and intensely relieved. He ran up to Charlton’s horse, and the group of heavily laden wagons following him.</p><p>Charlton stared down at his village headman.</p><p>“You were worried.”</p><p>“Yes, I was. We all were.” Shame crossed Paco’s face. “We know that Miss Lannie is out there somewhere, lost.”</p><p>Charlton dismounted and flung his arms around his headman.</p><p>“I failed my sister. I could not betray all of you,” he said into Paco’s shoulder.</p><p>Around him, in the growing dark and alerted by the noise, other villagers came out of their shabby cottages. They all had the same look. Intense relief that the lord of the estates had returned, mixed with shame and fear.</p><p>He had made the correct decision yet it gnawed at him like a swiftly growing cancer. Iolanthe would understand and it would be a pleasure and a relief to have her in his arms again. But would his mother understand?</p><hr/><p>“Fascinating. Just fascinating,” Silas said and wiggled into a more comfortable position in the bed in the first-class compartment. The train was due to arrive soon in Barsoom so he and Ulla had to get moving.</p><p>He rolled over on top of her instead.</p><p>“But there’s so much more to the story about why Lannie ran,” he purred.</p><p><a id="_Hlk54021670" name="_Hlk54021670"></a> “Yes, there is,” Ulla said, looking up at Silas. They were nose to nose. “We need to get up and get dressed because I am not getting off this train naked.”</p><p>“We could continue on to Southernmost.” He blew softly in her ear.</p><p>“No, we could not. Why do you want to marry me so badly anyway? You’ll become the daimyo of Avongale all on your own and it won’t take thirty years either.”</p><p>Silas met her blue eyes, his own like gray granite. “I want more. I want to lead my quad, my ninesquare, my sector. I want to be named the viceroy of the Ennagzee. I can’t do that on my own. The right wife, focused and driving, with the right connections will get me there.” He winked at her. “Besides, I do like a hot blonde with a great rack.”</p><p>“Wasting time chasing me doesn’t benefit Avongale. Try and think of what you should be doing back home,” Ulla said coolly. “You’ve been tremendous fun. I admit it. I like sex and you’re a skillful lover and I don’t get enough because most men think I’m a bossy harpy.”</p><p>“They don’t know how to manage you.”</p><p>“Use that word again about me and I’ll show you how much of a harpy I can be. Get off me and get dressed.” Ulla slumped back in despair; all her angry energy dissipated.</p><p>“I’m missing something. I know I am.” Like I didn’t know I could file a missing person’s report with the police and I needed Yair to point out that fact.</p><p>“It will come to you. Something that’s been bothering me about Lannie’s escape,” Silas said thoughtfully as he got out of bed and began rooting around on the floor of the compartment for his clothes. “What did she do with that flashy ballgown? Did she give it to someone?”</p><p>Ulla went still. “I don’t know. I’ve been so focused on searching for Lannie that I stopped thinking about that gown.”</p><p>She frowned at her own dress in her hands. Unlike Silas, she had hung up her clothes on the convenient hooks whereas he had left them where they fell when he stripped, strewn about. Obvious, easily seen, and out in the open where anyone could trip over them.</p><p>“I have to talk to Walter and find out where he got that ballgown so I know exactly what I’m looking for. Iolanthe said it was overwhelming.”</p><p>“Too bad we didn’t find out anything more about Lannie in Merreth,” Silas said.</p><p>“Yeah. No one saw a damn thing. It’s like she appeared out of thin air in front of the post office and then vanished as soon as she mailed that postcard. Lannie walked in, dropped it in the mailbox, and walked out. Where did she get the postcard? How did she pay for it? I can see why the postal clerk didn’t notice. That place is busy.”</p><p>Except, Ulla thought, maybe the clerk, Jennet!, did notice but she wasn’t going to say anything to us because of that idiot Dimitri. Not after he threw his weight around, threatening her. Good thing the regional postal inspector arrived the next day and threatened Dimitri and all of Orlov with lawsuits over interfering with the Martian post office. He backed down fast. But why? Maybe they’re closer to bankruptcy than I thought they were. They have to find those wretched Pearls and Lannie can drown in a ditch for all they care. Dimitri might drown Lannie in a ditch even if she gives him the Pearls, he’s that angry.</p><p>“Penny for your thoughts?” Silas asked, watching her face twist.</p><p>“No. But thanks for paying for the lovely compartment.”</p><p>Is this how whores feel? Selling what they have to get what they need? I needed help in Merreth and I promised you anything to get your help and I don’t love you and I doubt I ever will but the sex was fun and I’m turning into my slutty mother. Gleesh.</p><p>Silas pulled on his pants and she paused dressing to watch. He did have a very nice body, slimmer than she preferred but well-shaped and surprisingly strong. The spatter of yellows across his chest and back was actually attractive the way it highlighted his musculature. What did Yair’s body look like? Ulla firmly squashed the thought and finished struggling into her dress. Once it was on, she turned and let Silas button her up while she held her hair out of the way.</p><p>She froze.</p><p>Lannie’s flashy ballgown was huge. Walter, Dimitri, Charlton, and most importantly, Iolanthe testified to that fact. She had found loose buttons, torn off in Lannie’s struggles to extricate herself from the dress by herself, along with scraps of fabric she’d ripped off in the process. She still had the buttons and the scraps, kept safe in her bedchamber in the DelFino townhouse. That dress was far too large to miss if Lannie had dropped it in the alley during her escape. Very little time had passed between Lannie’s escape and when she and Dimitri went searching. Even in Barsoom, a huge ballgown wouldn’t vanish instantly.</p><p>Someone had the dress, someone who might have seen Lannie. Who would want a torn and damaged ballgown with missing buttons?</p><p>Someone for whom a ripped ballgown was still a huge amount of expensive, beautiful fabric. Someone who frequented dingy alleys at all hours of the day and night. Someone who might have agreed to remain silent in exchange for a beautiful yellow and green dress that had enough fabric in it to remake into several new dresses, complete with fancy buttons, lace, and trim.</p><p>Someone who was used to selling what she had to strangers.</p><p>Lannie had not vanished without a trace. She’d left traces behind; the scraps, the buttons, the postcard in Merreth. The postcard was a dead end but that flashy ballgown was too big to miss. Someone had it. And that someone might also know what Lannie was wearing so they could all quit handing out reward posters showing Lannie in an expensive tea frock instead of what she was probably wearing. Something drab and anonymous that let her vanish into the crowd. Like a coverall like half the population of Barsoom wore and a great many people in Merreth did too.</p><p>“Thank you, Silas,” Ulla said and pulled him to her and kissed him firmly. “I’m going to see Walter as soon as I get home to the townhouse.”</p><p>“It’ll be past midnight,” Silas said, looking amused and interested again.</p><p>Ulla smirked suddenly. “He won’t be asleep. He’s with Naomi Khan, his new bride, and she’s not going to let <em>him</em> sleep until she’s ready to fall over.”</p><p>Silas’s eyes widened, he choked, and then grinned salaciously. “I’ve heard of <em>her</em>. Does Walter know?”</p><p>“I told him,” Ulla admitted.</p><p>“Then he’s got some hope of his children being his,” Silas snickered. “And not the get of random strangers Naomi Khan picks up on street corners.”</p><p>“As long as he keeps her busy,” Ulla said. “How do you know?”</p><p>“My cousin, Millicent, writes to a large percentage of Mars,” Silas answered and began buttoning up his shirt. “Millicent knows all the gossip.”</p><p>“I want her address,” Ulla said. “I’ll write to her too.”</p><p>“I’m not sure about that.”</p><p>“Afraid of what Millicent will tell me about you, Silas?” Ulla pinned him to the compartment wall with a sharp fingertip aimed directly at his heart. “Should I be worried?”</p><p>“No.” He moved her jabbing fingertip away from his chest. “But I did silly things as a child and I don’t want you to think less of me.”</p><p>“I’m sure I can’t think less of you,” Ulla said dutifully.</p><p>He looked surprised and then laughed. “The Avongale matchmaker said you didn’t have a sense of humor but she was wrong. You do, sly and dry and absurd, and you don’t shove it down people’s throats.”</p><p>She flushed. “Well, sometimes I do.”</p><p>Silas stepped closer. “There is much more to you than meets the eye, Ulla. I’m making the correct decision by choosing you as my daimyah. I need your drive, your devotion to duty. I need a wife who cares deeply about the wellbeing of every member of my family like you care about DelFino. Olde Earthe is going to return, those rapacious blood-sucking bastards, and I want Avongale and everyone in the sector ready.”</p><p>He ran his fingers very gently across her cheeks and outlined her mouth.</p><p>“Besides, I’m having the most fun I’ve had in months and not just because you are a hot blonde.”</p><p>“With a great rack,” Ulla said. “Don’t forget that part.”</p><hr/><p>As Ulla suspected, Walter and Naomi were up. Luckily, they were on the verge of retiring for the night and she wouldn’t be disturbing them. The idea of walking in on them should have been embarrassing, but Ulla no longer cared. Walter and Naomi had married in DelFino in front of the family (suspiciously quick, Ottilie sniffed and Ulla agreed) and then returned to Barsoom a few days later because Naomi wanted to see the sights.</p><p>So far, Naomi had been as sweet-tempered as one could want. This would be the test of her supposed angelic nature.</p><hr/><p>“It’s late, Ulla,” Naomi cooed. “Don’t you need your beauty sleep? I know I do. And please, do introduce me to your handsome companion.”</p><p>She batted her eyes and leaned slightly forward to better display her luscious figure in drifting, semi-transparent gauze. Walter stood proudly besides her. By comparison, Ulla looked positively disheveled after the train ride from Merreth and the journey through the rain to the DelFino townhouse. Silas, too, looked rumpled instead of elegantly tailored. For his part, Walter’s bruises had faded and his healing broken nose gave him a rakish air, changing him from so handsome he was pretty to something more interestingly masculine.</p><p>“Silas Florez Avongale,” Silas replied promptly to Naomi’s invitation, blinked at the banquet set before him, and bowed over her graceful, outstretched hand.</p><p>“Avongale. I don’t know anyone from that far away. I must get to know you better,” Naomi cooed. Even her voice was beautiful; musical with a touch of huskiness as though she’d been panting to meet the man in front of her.</p><p>That man, Silas, dropped her hand as though it had burned him and took a step backwards. “You’re a lucky man, Walter.”</p><p>“It seems that way,” Walter said. “You sure this can’t wait until morning, Ulla?”</p><p>“No. I’ve got to find that dress shop right away. And did you send a servant to Merreth to look for Lannie?” Ulla asked sharply. She caught Walter’s flash of guilt and annoyance.</p><p>“Aha! You did! I thought so and you weren’t the only one. Someone else from DelFino sent someone too. The daimyo, most likely.”</p><p>“Yeah, dad would want to find Lannie,” Walter replied absently. He was thinking furiously, adding up how many people knew that Lannie had stolen the Pearls and who would find her first. He wanted to touch the hidden pocket over his heart holding the stolen bracelet, but he kept his hand at Naomi’s back. Sharp-eyed Ulla would notice.</p><p>“Oh, Walter,” Naomi pleaded. “I’m so tired. Can’t we go to bed now?”</p><p>“You toddle off, Naomi,” Ulla said. “Finding Lannie is more important than an additional five minutes of beauty sleep.”</p><p>“Are you sure, Ulla?” Naomi asked, her vividly green eyes flecked with gold wide-open to better show them off. Her eyelashes were astonishing in their thickness and length. “You could use more beauty sleep.”</p><p>“Ulla is both lovely and conscientious,” Silas said. “A daimyah needs to be much more than just another pretty face.”</p><p>“Ulla is not a daimyah,” Naomi pouted.</p><p>“She will be.”</p><p>“That remains to be seen,” Ulla said firmly. “Walter. Where did you get that dress? Tell me right now or I’ll harass you and your lovely bride until you tell me and I’m sure you can think of things you’d rather do than argue about dress shops with me. Although I am quite willing to camp out in front of your bedchamber door the rest of the night and discuss dress shop locations. Loudly.”</p><p>“Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies,” Walter said. “They’re somewhere on Rice Boulevard. And let me say now that Evans bought the dress so the first time I saw it was on Lannie during the carriage ride to the cathedral.”</p><p>“You didn’t pick out that flashy ballgown?” Ulla asked.</p><p>Walter rolled his eyes. “Gleesh, Ulla.” The word ‘moron’ hovered in the air. “I was at Charlton’s estates, remember? With you? Out in the back of beyond? Where even the mail service was substandard and delayed? Trying to drag him up to basic DelFino standards while you were doing the same with Lannie? I couldn’t so Evans did it for me.”</p><p>“But ballgowns take time and fittings,” Naomi said, trying to hijack the conversation back to where it belonged: centered on her.</p><p>“It was ready-to-wear,” Walter answered.</p><p>Naomi gasped in open horror, clutched the front of her gown so it exposed more of her perfect cleavage, and murmured “how low-class and tacky. Didn’t Evans know any better?”</p><p>“It was for Lannie, my angel,” Walter said. “You will always get custom couture.”</p><p>Naomi preened, gazing up at her new husband in open adoration.</p><p>“Hope you have the income for that kind of extravagance,” Ulla said, unimpressed. “For special occasion, sure. Everyday wear? You’ll run through your allowance in no time. And I assume that it was Evans you sent to Merreth since he’s the one who maintains that little pied-à-terre you keep in Barsoom.” She grinned wickedly at Walter’s expression and at Naomi’s. “Didn’t think I knew about that?”</p><p>Walter gaped at her, but before he could come up with an answer, Naomi said “What are you talking about with running through an allowance? Walter is the daimyo’s son.”</p><p>Ulla’s grin got wider. “That’s true, but in DelFino being the daimyo’s son doesn’t rate special privileges like unlimited expense accounts. Those have to be earned and Walter has to find a job in the demesne just like the rest of the family who don’t hold land. Especially if his father loses the election at the Winter Solstice.”</p><p>“I didn’t know any of that,” Naomi said and something ugly flashed in her beautiful eyes.</p><p>“How sad,” Ulla said. “The Khan matchmaker didn’t inform you? DelFino’s matchmaker, that would be lady Ottilie, is far more competent and thorough. She told me all about Silas’s outstanding prospects.” She glanced up at his face and managed a charming, appreciative smile.</p><p>Silas wrapped an arm around Ulla and she let him. “Very true. I’m one of Avongale’s frontrunners and I have bigger plans than just being named daimyo. I aim to become the Ennagzee’s viceroy and my Ulla will help me get there.”</p><p>Naomi stared at him for a gloriously, transcendently beautiful moment, then turned on Walter.</p><p>“You didn’t tell me that your father might not remain the daimyo.”</p><p>“The election is his to lose,” Walter said. “Shall we retire, my darling?”</p><p>“You don’t have land of your own? But DelFino is immense!”</p><p>“No, I don’t.”</p><p>He caught another flash of ugly fury in Naomi’s eyes and understood he was about to learn whether Ottilie and Ulla had been correct in their assessment of Naomi’s temper. DelFino, Walter thought. I married you for the betterment of DelFino. Olde Earthe will return and I have to ensure DelFino is as strong as I can make it. Even if it means living with you and never being sure if I sired our children.</p><hr/><p>Back in the morning room, the lamps turned low because of the late hour, Ulla worked to get Silas off to his hotel.</p><p>“So that was Naomi Khan,” he said, stalling for time. “She was everything they claimed.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ulla said. “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as she is, other than aunt Constance, Charlton and Lannie’s mother. But auntie Constance is as sweet-natured as she is lovely. I think Walter is about to discover the truth.”</p><p>“Better him than me.” Silas grabbed for Ulla’s hands. “Now, what about us?”</p><p>“I’m getting up at dawn so I can be at Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies as soon as they open. I suggest you get back to your hotel and see what you need to do for the betterment of Avongale.”</p><p>“I see the betterment of Avongale in front of me. I have a very nice, private hotel room with a superior bed compared to that train compartment.”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“You promised me anything.”</p><p>“So I did. But right now, I’m exhausted, it’s late, I’ve got too much to do tomorrow, so it’s still ‘no’.” Ulla yawned, rang for Grimaldi and a pair of husky footmen, and minutes later, saw Silas Avongale out the door and off into the dark streets of Barsoom.</p><hr/><p>Days passed, days in which Lannie rode Coppertail and Fen walked, interspersed with days when they both walked, giving Coppertail more rest. Whenever Fen felt Coppertail was up to it, they rode pillion, putting more klicks between them and Weer. It bothered him that Joe at the general store in Weer spent so much time fitting Lannie with boots and then sold the boots and four pairs of socks for twenty credits instead of what they really cost. The more he thought about it, the more he believed the pawnshop owner had wanted to stall them.</p><p>Lannie agreed.</p><p>“He must have thought we would wait around,” she said after they’d chewed it over again along with more mil-rats. This batch was yam flavored although Lannie insisted they tasted nothing like yams and since she’d eaten them and Fen had not, he deferred to her opinion. “I’m glad we left so promptly and even happier that we haven’t made any stops we didn’t absolutely have to.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Fen smiled at her. “You’re getting the hang of the steppes, Lannie.”</p><p>Except we <em>have</em> been making stops we shouldn’t have, he thought, because while I can live off what I snare and gather, you can’t and it would take too darn long. And then there’s water. Got to have water and I can’t spare the time to search for it. That would take even longer than setting snares. Although, I could set them overnight. When we get closer to Eljinn and past DelFino’s lands. In Eljinn, he could send a postcard home and another one to Theo. His relatives and his best friend must be wondering what the hellation he’d been doing. He should have been halfway to Darnay by now.</p><p>He searched for something else to say. They’d have a dry night tonight but Lannie had already mentioned it.</p><p>“So what was it like being a maid in DelFino?”</p><p>Lannie goggled at him. “A maid? Oh, right. I was on this little estate. Far away from DelFino Castle and the heart of the demesne.”</p><p>She thought rapidly. What could she say? It had to be truthful because she’d start giggling madly and the truth was easier to remember. Relief washed over her. Ulla. Ulla hadn’t saved her from Rastislav but Ulla could save her now.</p><p>“We were about as far away as it was possible to be,” she began carefully. “The manor house was a wreck. I … worked there. For uh, Lady Constance.” She stopped and her eyes teared up and she choked back a sob.</p><p>“A caring mistress?” Fen asked carefully. Where was Lannie’s own mother? At least she had a brother somewhere, even if he hadn’t protected her.</p><p>Lannie nodded vigorously and wiped her eyes. “She was. I miss her every day.” Mama. I can’t call you mama in front of Fen because he wouldn’t understand. I miss you so much, mama, and I don’t even know if you’re still alive after daddy tried to poison you.</p><p>“Anyways, Ulla DelFino came out to our house and she made us all work like crazy.” Lannie launched into a description of Ulla fussing over bleaching the stains out of linen napkins until Fen began laughing.</p><p>“Sounds like a handful,” he said at last, when it was time to turn in for the night.</p><p>“She was,” Lannie said. Her eyes filled again with tears and she blinked them back. “But Ulla cared so much. About all of us.”</p><p>Except me and why didn’t she save me and does she ever think one minute about me except over those wretched Pearls? Probably not. Except Ulla had insisted, when she’d disappeared on the way to the cathedral, that she was doing something to help her and mama. What was it? She’d have to think about it now that she had time to think. Ulla running off to shop right before a wedding was wildly out of character.</p><p>She stared off into the fire, oblivious to her surroundings. What was she missing about Ulla? Was it similar to how she’d spent her entire life misjudging her brother, Charlton? Perhaps Ulla had tried to save her from Rastislav and tried to save mama, just as she said she was doing when she’d left on that awful day in Barsoom. Ulla never lied. Ulla did what she said she would. Ulla had no imagination, she didn’t get distracted, and she was as reliable as the sun rising every morning in the east. Why had Ulla abandoned her to go trousseau shopping?</p><p>What, exactly, had Ulla meant to do that would help mama and her?</p><p>Fen tactfully banked the fire, they settled in, and he said nothing while Lannie drifted off, lost in thought. It was clear enough. She missed her home, her family, even that harpy, Lady Ulla DelFino, and she couldn’t return. He’d have to tell her more about HighTower and how she’d be welcomed. If he could manage to keep those eight remaining pearls unsold, his family wouldn’t object to welcoming Lannie even if she was a runaway housemaid. Those eight remaining pearls made a handsome dowry if he guessed their value correctly.</p><p>If she accepted him.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Take your hands off of her. Now.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You couldn’t find them? A scrawny teenaged boy with a scraggly boy’s beard and a braid hanging down to his ass and a skinny teenaged girl wearing a man’s coverall that’s ten sizes too big?”</p><p>“No,” the Weer sheriff said. “You sure about their descriptions?”</p><p>“I talked to that boy for several minutes. He had <em>beads</em> in his hair and was wearing a wool shirt in this heat! How could you possibly not find him?” the pawnbroker snarled.</p><p>“But you didn’t see his girlfriend, Eddie,” the sheriff shot back.</p><p>“No, but my brother Joe over to the general store spent plenty of time getting her fitted for boots, enough time to memorize what she looked like. You had more than enough time to get your lazy ass in gear and hunt them down for those stolen pearls that scrawny boy tried to sell me.”</p><p>The sheriff settled back comfortably in his office chair and put his feet up on the desk. “They can’t have got far on foot. They’ll be sleeping in a waystation. I’ll send out fliers in all directions and we’ll catch them.”</p><p>“And if there’s a reward?” the pawnbroker said, whipping out an ingratiating we’re-all-in-this-together expression.</p><p>“I’ll let you know,” the sheriff replied. “Get out of my office.”</p><p>The Weer sheriff watched the pawnbroker amble back to his shop with his odd, disjointed walk and wondered what the hellation was going on. Eddie was known to lie to those he could safely lie to. He’d certainly never been clear how he got that limp while ‘traveling on business’. The sheriff was sure that Eddie dealt in stolen goods because what pawnbroker didn’t? It went with the territory and a smart, careful pawnbroker like Eddie played the oblivious fool with buyers, sellers, and authority figures. He certainly made plenty of regular trips to Barsoom, which was suspicious in and of itself since everyone in town knew he had no relatives there. Eddie’s brother, Joe, was much the same. Joe cheated out-of-towners, but not the residents because he’d lose his license to operate his general store and get tossed out of town.</p><p>More importantly, it just didn’t make sense that some scrawny teenaged boy would show up in Weer with two pea-sized pearls. Pearls that big belonged to ristos and rich merchants and scrawny, destitute teenagers weren’t allowed near them. If the girl was a runaway housemaid, she wouldn’t be hanging around Weer. Smart runaway maids disappeared in Barsoom where no one would notice them. Or they got snatched by slavers.</p><p>Something else was going on.</p><p>But in the meantime, on the theory that stopped clocks were right twice a day and Eddie might actually be telling the truth for reasons of his own, the sheriff decided to send out fliers and investigate the local waystations. It wasn’t like teenagers from Barsoom would dare camp out overnight. Travelers on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor or the 5° Latitude Corridor who had to sleep outside of a waystation never went past eyeshot of the road.</p><p>It wasn’t safe, because highwaymen and bandits were always waiting to prey on unwary fools.</p><hr/><p>Ulla yawned through breakfast, then had Lesten drive her to Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies somewhere on Rice Boulevard. She deliberately did not ask Grimaldi about messages before she left, hoping to avoid Silas Avongale. He was nice enough, but she had more important things on her mind than her future life with him as the daimyah of Avongale.</p><p>The early morning sun lit up the streets, washed clean from the rains of the previous days. The buildings were cleaner, the street trees had greener leaves, and the sun seemed somehow brighter. Ulla wasn’t prone to flights of fancy but she woke up feeling that she might learn something important today. At a minimum, she’d finally see the flashy yellow and green ballgown that Iolanthe had so carefully described in one of her many letters.</p><p>The description implied it really was the sort of dress a peasant envisioned a storybook princess wearing because no one else would. It was wildly impractical and overblown, even more so than usual for ballgowns.</p><p>As Lesten wove his way through morning traffic, a new thought struck Ulla. The neighborhood was starting to look familiar. This part of Barsoom wasn’t where the Four Hundred lived, worked, played, or shopped. This was a lower middle-class neighborhood, slightly seedy around the edges. Why would she have been here? It was far away from the cathedral where she’d been searching for Lannie. She knew that district of Barsoom very well indeed, now.</p><p>This though. Her heart leaped.</p><p>This was Yair’s neighborhood. Where he had asked her to drop him off after she’d met him at Burrough’s Park in the red-roofed pavilion. They’d watched the swans and he had insisted that she file a missing person’s report with the police for Lannie and he’d been correct. A low-caste, lowly waiter who’d helped her at the Great Hospital, at Chez Gramscee, and then said the most sensible thing anyone had said during the search for Lannie.</p><p>Would she see him today? She twisted in the carriage seat to stare out at the crowds filling the street and sidewalks and cafés. He wasn’t there, of course, any more than Lannie was. It was foolish to even think of him when he had a life of his own and a dream he was working toward: owning a fine hotel.</p><p>But this street was where he’d asked to be dropped off. She thought. But maybe it wasn’t and she was fooling herself.</p><p>“Lesten,” Ulla said, leaning forward so her coachman could hear her over the clamor of the street.</p><p>“Yes, Miss Ulla?”</p><p>“Isn’t this the street where we dropped off Yair after I went to the police substation with him?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Ulla. It is.”</p><p>“We watched the rocket carry our stolen wealth back to those rapacious bastards on Olde Earthe.”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Ulla. We did. Ah! There’s the shop, Miss Ulla. I see the sign,” Lesten said with relief. Miss Ulla could stop thinking about that man. Yair Buruk had helped Miss Ulla in the search for Miss Lannie more than anyone else had, but he was not otherwise suitable for a lady like her to associate with. Too low-caste and Yair didn’t always remember his place. Understandable really, because not many men appreciated Miss Ulla for her drive and intelligence and he did. They only saw the bossy harpy and not the deeply caring woman within.</p><p>Lesten pulled up the horses but there wasn’t any place for him to wait without blocking traffic.</p><p>“I’ll help you out, Miss Ulla, and circle the block until you’re ready to leave. It’s that or that park down at the far end of the street, the one we passed several minutes ago.”</p><p>“Take the park, Lesten,” Ulla said. “The horses could do with a bit of shade and water and so could you. I can walk back.”</p><p>“It may not be safe, my lady.”</p><p>She laughed suddenly. “Considering some of the alleys you waited outside of when I was talking to prostitutes, this street looks like paradise. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>Lesten took a wary look around and conceded her point. “That is true, Miss Ulla. I’ll wait at the park but no more than half an hour. Then I’ll come looking for you.”</p><p>“Give me an hour, Lesten. Just in case Mrs. Duckart is busy with other customers.”</p><p>“Yes, my lady.”</p><hr/><p>She was a few minutes early and the shop was still closed. Ulla stood outside Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies, peering through the biggest window at the crowded sales floor. It was filled with racks of ladies clothing and two mannequins displaying the most expensive dresses. Mrs. Duckart used every inch of space, while still allowing room to walk around. She also wanted to put her best foot forward with her clientele. The large windows were sparkling clean, the floors within newly mopped, the doorstep outside scrubbed, the sidewalk freshly swept. The window displays looked fresh, not shopworn or dusty.</p><p>The two mannequins wore absurdly ostentatious gowns but nothing like what Iolanthe described. Had Walter lied about where his personal servant, Evans, bought the dress for Lannie? It was unlikely because Walter knew she would shred him verbally. Or had Evans lied?</p><p>“See anything you like?” a male voice said, intruding into her thoughts and it sounded familiar even though it had been weeks and Ulla spun on her heel.</p><p>“Yair!”</p><p>“In the flesh,” Yair Buruk replied and caught her hands in his own. He smiled warmly at her and it felt like no time at all had passed since she’d last seen him. “What are you doing in this part of town?” he asked.</p><p>Hoping to see you. The thought rocketed across her mind but Ulla said, without letting go of his hands or dropping her eyes from his, “Searching for Lannie. Walter claims the ballgown she wore at the cathedral came from here and if I know what the dress looks like, I can ask better questions. It couldn’t have disappeared into thin air. Not that dress. Iolanthe said it was exactly what a peasant would think a storybook princess would wear.”</p><p>“A peasant,” Yair said. One eyebrow went up, but he didn’t make any move to drop her hands from his own strong ones nor did his smile dim.</p><p>“Well, yes. That’s what she said,” Ulla said, embarrassed. “I know it sounds bad but Iolanthe said — even though she had never visited Barsoom — that she knew what Four Hundred fashions were like and this dress was not what we would wear.” She stopped in confusion, then added “You’ve seen how the Four Hundred and wealthy merchants dress in places like Chez Gramscee.”</p><p>“But you don’t wear <em>ballgowns</em> out to dinner,” Yair replied.</p><p>“That is true.”</p><p>“Ulla. Is this man bothering you?”</p><p>“Silas! What are you doing here?” Ulla sputtered.</p><p>“Looking out for the wellbeing of my future daimyah,” Silas said and cast a cold, disapproving eye on the raffish day-laborer in anonymous coveralls who had the temerity to speak to Ulla DelFino and worse.</p><p>“Take your hands off of her. Now.”</p><hr/><p>“<em>Aaaaaaah</em>!” Lannie screamed and screamed, her screams shattering the dawn and silencing the usual dawn serenade of bugs and birds.</p><p>“Lannie!” Fen shouted. He quit struggling to light this morning’s fire, leaped to his feet, and searched the horizon for her silhouette.</p><p>“Fen! <em>Fen!</em> <em><b>Fen!</b></em>” Lannie screamed his name repeatedly, each time louder than the time before.</p><p>He was moving quickly, thankful Coppertail was hobbled so his gelding couldn’t run far in panic, circling around their campsite and trying to remember in which direction Lannie had gone for a few minutes of morning privacy.</p><p>There she was. Alive. Unhurt. Screaming like a banshee and pointing at the ground and not moving a muscle and no one was threatening her. No wolf or big cat either. No swarm of wasps or she’d be running flat out away from them.</p><p>She spotted him and screamed hysterically “Look out! It will bite you!”</p><p>“What? What? Where?”</p><p>“Right there in front of me! Aaaaaah!”</p><p>He followed her shaking, pointing hand and there it was.</p><p>“Lannie!” He ran over to her, grabbing her so she couldn’t panic still further and run wildly into the steppes and get lost and meet something that was actually dangerous.</p><p>“Stop it! It won’t hurt you.”</p><p>“Snaaaaaaake! It’s a snaaaaake!”</p><p>“Yes, it is and it won’t hurt you.”</p><p>“But it’s a snaaaake and it will bite me and I’ll die of poison and I’ll never see my mama or my brother again!”</p><p>“It won’t bite you. It’s more afraid of you than you are of it!”</p><p>“It’s a <em>snake</em>, Fen.”</p><p>“Yes, a harmless one. See?” He pointed to the tail end of the cowering reptile trying to disappear in the grass. “No rattle!”</p><p>“A rattle? Snakes don’t come with rattles!”</p><p>“Some of them do and those are the ones you have to watch out for. Or it’ll show its fangs or try to warn you off before it bites,” he said, striving for calm so she would calm down. “This is a banded racer. They eat mice. He’s a big one but you’re too big for him to eat.”</p><p>Lannie went silent for a wonderful, ear-saving moment. His head rang and he strove desperately to hear what might be around them. Everyone for klicks around must have heard her screaming.</p><p>“There are <em>mice</em> out here?!” she screamed. Along with all the rocks and sticks and thorns and scratchy grass and crawly bugs and slimy worms and slithery snakes and rain practically every darn day. It was just too much. “Aaaaaah!”</p><p>“Yes!” he yelled back in frustration. “There must be a thousand kinds of critters from tiny to huge out on the steppes and they all got their place and their duties and a banded racer’s duty is to eat <em>mice</em>! Quit screaming or people all the way out to the Corridor Road will hear us and come looking to see who’s murdering you!”</p><p>“But it was a <em>snake</em>!”</p><p>“Harmless!”</p><p>“But a snake!”</p><p>“Lannie! Get a hold of yourself.” Fen pulled her close to him so she couldn’t run or argue and they were nose to nose.</p><p>“Listen to me carefully,” he said. “Do not and I mean it, scream out on the steppes unless you are actually in mortal danger. Unless some animal like a pack of wolves is attacking you. There’s bandits out here and we do not want to attract attention and by now everyone within ten klicks must have heard you, yeah?”</p><p>“But it scared me,” Lannie said in a very small voice. He looked so serious. “Wait. You said <em>bandits</em>?”</p><p>“Yes, Lannie. Like the ones I told you about up at Krangland who poisoned the well and tried to murder those travelers.”</p><p>“<em>Bandits</em>?” She was having trouble taking it in.</p><p>“Yes, and we do not want to get their attention, Lannie. Yeah?”</p><p>She clutched him closer to her bosom (an embrace he daydreamed about and would have normally welcomed and enjoyed) and gasped “Have you seen any? Are they nearby?”</p><p>“No, Lannie. I haven’t seen any signs other than that thief back before Merreth and I have been looking. But just because I haven’t seen signs doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. It’s why we’re being careful when we make camp and why we’re quiet and why I do not want you to scream unless it is <em>critical</em>.”</p><p>“I…” her voice trailed away.</p><p>“You’re learning the steppes. It’s all new to you. I understand that. Now understand this. Do not scream again unless it’s life or death and seeing a snake is not life or death.”</p><p>She nodded vigorously, not trusting her voice. Fen looked anxious, almost as anxious as he had been when he’d first looked at her legs to check for blood poisoning.</p><p>“We got to break camp right away, get the hellation away from here in case anyone heard you and comes looking to find out why some girl is alone on the steppes. We’ll eat later. We got to move, Lannie. <em>Now</em>. You pack while I catch Coppertail.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. <em>Bandits</em>? Gleesh. That would be worse than snakes. And wolves? Really? Wolves? Didn’t they live way out in the middle of nowhere where no people ever went?</p><hr/><p>“Reg. Hold up. You hear that screeching off in the distance?”</p><p>“Screaming girl? My favorite sound.”</p><p>“Mine too. We should go find that girl.”</p><hr/><p>Charlton held Iolanthe close to his heart, grateful to be home in his own bed with his own dearest wife who had eagerly welcomed him into her embrace. She had understood how difficult his choice had been and she had not burst into tearing, gut-wrenching sobs like his mother had. Mama had not understood why he had not traveled on to Merreth to search for Lannie. He hoped uncle Jorge was calming his mother with a stroll through the starlit, weedy gardens.</p><p>“She’ll be fine,” Iolanthe said soothingly. “I’ve watched them for days and your uncle genuinely cares for your mother and he handles her beautifully.”</p><p>“Will Lannie ever forgive me?” Charlton asked despairingly. “She may not even be alive anymore.”</p><p>“We cannot lose hope.” Iolanthe leaned in closer to nibble on his ear. “I think, if Lannie knew the circumstances, she would forgive you. I’ve spoken to everyone in the manor house about her and I’ve gotten an idea about her character. Ulla has been very complete in her letters and so has Shondra.”</p><p>He chuckled suddenly. “How much am I spending on postage?”</p><p>“We can afford it,” she answered tartly. “Especially with what you earned from selling part of the pearl earrings in Telduv.”</p><p>“The jeweler said he’d buy everything I can sell him,” Charlton said; grateful to impart some good news. “And I know I got a good price because I invited all three of Telduv’s jewelers to my hotel room and showed them the pearls I was selling. Unless they’re working together, they’ll compete on price.”</p><p>“Very clever.”</p><p>“I’m a lot better at reading people than I am at reading books.”</p><p>“Yes, you are. Getting back to my point, I know Lannie better via other people’s impressions. Charlton, she had help getting out of Barsoom. I’m sure she did or she would have been found by now.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he groaned. “Whatever low-caste miner who walked all the way from Panschin.”</p><p>“I spoke with the Postmaster. He thinks that because Panschin is the only large city up there, the stationery supplier probably sells to customers in the entire northern half of Mars. It would be less expensive for people up there to buy Panschin stationery rather than ship it up from the Hot Zone.”</p><p>“That makes sense. So it doesn’t have to be some miner from Panschin?”</p><p>“It may not be. Charlton —” Iolanthe fixed him to the bed with her eyes, not that he resisted “— we have to go back to Barsoom. While you in Telduv, I discussed the situation endlessly with Jorge and Cook and we all agree. Lannie must have gotten help at the livery stable because, as Cook said, Ulla would have squeezed the information out of the trolley staff, the railway staff, or the local shopkeepers. There were too many people for Lannie, sobbing and obviously in distress, to remain unobserved. But if Lannie left mounted on a horse, she would have vanished quickly into the crowds and gotten outside the city without being noticed.”</p><p>“Then Mr. Cardozo lied to us,” Charlton said and sat upright, tense with sudden fury.</p><p>“I did not get the sense he was lying. Did you?”</p><p>“No,” Charlton said after a long pause. “He wasn’t lying.”</p><p>“But he may have been mistaken in what he knew,” Iolanthe said. “And that means he may have made a mistake in what he told us.”</p><p>Charlton lay back against the pillows and Iolanthe cuddled up against his nude body. “I can see that. We’ve all been thinking we know what’s going on, that we know what everyone around us is thinking or doing and we’ve been wrong.”</p><p>“Terribly wrong,” Iolanthe said, thinking of how badly she had misread faithless Nelly’s intentions. How she’d never had the slightest idea that her brother Dimitri and Charlton had hatched a plot to save Lannie from Rastislav while extorting her bride price from the sot. And how Charlton, Ulla, and Walter had been completely in the dark about how each planned to rescue Lannie independently of the others. How Charlton already knew who she was and wanted her anyway, based solely on what her brother had said about her character.</p><p>He groaned and said “Damnation. Jorge was clear. Zachery will not permit me to leave my estates and go to Barsoom or anywhere else other than Telduv or I’ll lose my land. Damn his eyes. I’ll vote against him in the Winter Solstice election, much good that will do.”</p><p>“Jorge and I have also discussed something along those lines that may help. In the meantime, I’ll write to Ulla tomorrow and see if she can figure out a way to get Zachery to allow us to travel to Barsoom.”</p><p>“My darling, my heart, the woman I love most in the world. Ulla doesn’t have any imagination.”</p><p>“I know. But she’s our only hope to get there. Mr. Cardozo is within his rights to refuse to talk to Ulla, but he might be willing to speculate with you, Lannie’s brother, since you are trying to save her.”</p><hr/><p>“Silas. You do not get to tell me who I can or can’t associate with. I know Mr. Buruk and he’s been extremely helpful to me so you can stop accusing me of behaving like my <em>mother</em>!” Ulla yelled in increasing fury.</p><p>Silas stepped back from her rage, his hands up, and said “I did not say one word about your mother.”</p><p>“But you were thinking it! Everyone does and I am not my mother!”</p><p>“No one is accusing you of behaving like your mother, Miss DelFino,” Yair said soothingly. “Certainly not Mr. Avongale.” He used the voice he always used with high-strung, overly demanding customers when waiting tables at ultra-expensive restaurants and, as hoped, it worked. Sort of.</p><p>“Lord Avongale to you,” Silas growled.</p><p>“Gleesh, Silas. This is not going to make me want to marry you and it’s not like you ever needed me to be named daimyo. Mrs. Duckart is waiting to open her dress salon and if the two of you can’t behave, I’ll call the police and have you both arrested and don’t think I can’t because I know every policeman in Barsoom!” Ulla threatened.</p><p>“All of them?” Yair asked.</p><p>“By now, yes,” Ulla replied. “I visit the main police station and every substation near the cathedral every day to see if they’ve made any progress.”</p><p>“I see,” Yair said. Good gods above, he thought. You took the bit and ran with it.</p><p>“You visit police stations?” Silas gasped. “Why would you do that?”</p><p>“To find Lannie, Silas,” Ulla said with exaggerated patience. “Remember her? You think I spend all my time making social calls on Four Hundred members in town? They don’t know anything. Oh, and I also know all the employees at the Great Hospital’s morgue on a first-name basis so don’t be telling me who I can and can’t talk to.”</p><p>Yair laughed suddenly.</p><p>“Good for you, Miss DelFino. Shall we?” He swept out a very credible bow and opened the door to Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies, making the bell jingle.</p><p>Mrs. Duckart, a squat, sturdy, well-tailored matron in vibrant and flattering peach and charcoal was waiting for them. She gave all three of her first customers for the morning the fish-eye.</p><p>“If you gentlemen are going to fight over the young lady, do it out on the street. Understand me?” she said firmly.</p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Duckart,” Yair said.</p><p>“I know you, Yair,” she replied. “But I don’t know either of you. You would be?”</p><p>“I’m Ulla Tisdale DelFino,” Ulla replied. “And the other gentleman is Silas Florez Avongale.”</p><p>“I see,” said Mrs. Duckart. “Welcome to my little shop, Miss DelFino. I design and sew custom dresses for them as wants them but otherwise, everything is ready-to-wear and I alter as needed. Also, being part of the Four Hundred doesn’t get you a discount. I got plenty of business and I don’t need the aggravation of catering to the quality.”</p><p>“Oh. Right,” Ulla said. “That’s not why I’m here. I’m looking for a dress that Evans, a servant of Walter DelFino, bought a few weeks ago.” She launched into a description and Mrs. Duckart began nodding in recognition.</p><p>When she finished, Yair interrupted. “Miss DelFino, I’ll leave you in Mrs. Duckart’s good hands. I have to go to work. One last thing. I’ve been asking about Lannie but no one’s heard a rumor —”</p><p>Ulla interrupted eagerly, desperately, “— she’s not in any of the cribs in the rookery?” It was still possible that Lannie had been caught by someone and dragged back to Barsoom and they would never learn the truth.</p><p>Yair’s face got serious. “No, Miss DelFino. She is not. I don’t believe your cousin is in Barsoom at all.”</p><p>“Thank you, Yair,” Ulla said and wished she was brave enough to hug him in front the openly curious Mrs. Duckart, the two whispering and avidly watching seamstresses peeking from behind the curtain at the back of the shop, and the openly disapproving Silas. She was overwhelmed. Yair didn’t know Lannie had made it to Merreth. He had never met Lannie and barely knew her, yet he had continued to search for Lannie.</p><p>“You’ll find her, Miss DelFino,” Yair said. “I know you will.”</p><p>He swept into another very credible bow and vanished back out onto Rice Boulevard, leaving behind the jingle of the shopkeeper’s bell.</p><p>“He’s a fine young man, our Yair is,” Mrs. Duckart said. “His family’s been trying to get him married off, but he’s too busy chasing that dream hotel of his. He might make it too.”</p><p>“Yes, he told me,” Ulla said. She caught Silas’s expression and gave herself a mental shake. “The dress. Did you only make the one?”</p><p>“No, Miss DelFino. I sewed up two. I designed it myself, too. Alice, Banhi, get the yellow and green ballgown out for Miss DelFino.”</p><p>She turned back to Ulla and said, “I rearrange the stock regular, keeps everything fresh for the customers, so this dress has been hanging in the workroom since the smaller size got bought. A servant named Evans bought it, you said?”</p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Duckart. My cousin, Yilanda DelFino, we call her Lannie, wore it in the cathedral to marry the daimyo of Orlov and then vanished and we’ve been looking for her and if I can see the dress, it will help me find her.”</p><p>Mrs. Duckart chuckled and said, “Your cousin won’t be able to hide in this gown. I designed it to be the center of attention.”</p><p>The shopkeeper’s bell jingled again and a ragged street urchin sidled in. He quailed under Mrs. Duckart’s frowning annoyance at his muddy bare feet and squeaked, “got a message for the gentleman risto, the one with the pretty blonde lady, Mrs. Duckart.”</p><p>“A message for me?” Silas asked, looking puzzled. “Here?”</p><p>“Yes, sir. Right outside, sir. Getting paid for this so I’d appreciate it if you’d step on outside so I can earn me coin. Won’t take long, sir, I’m sure,” the boy answered. “Then you can be getting back to the pretty lady.”</p><p>“Very well,” Silas said. “If you would excuse me, my dearest Ulla and Mrs. Duckart.” He bowed gracefully and low, far more exquisitely than Yair had done, demonstrating hours of practice.</p><p>A moment after he left, the curtain to the workroom parted and Alice, arms full of gleaming sunshine yellow and lizard green satin, emerged. Bahni was right behind her wheeling out a third mannequin. Ulla fished out her collection of scraps and buttons and held them out and they matched.</p><p>“Can you put the dress on the mannequin,” Ulla asked, her voice shaking. She already could tell that even blind beggars would have noticed Lannie in this ballgown. Mrs. Duckart smiled proudly at the effect it was having on her risto customer.</p><p>It took several more minutes for Alice and Banhi to swiftly dress Mrs. Duckart’s third mannequin and as they were finishing, the shopkeeper’s bell jingled again.</p><p>“Great gods of the harvest,” Silas said into the silence. “I have never seen a ballgown like that in my entire life.”</p><p>“I wanted spectacular,” Mrs. Duckart said smugly. “Draws in the customers, it does, knowing that I can design and sew a gown that people will talk about for years to come.”</p><p>“I am utterly amazed,” Ulla said, blinking at the splendor of shimmering satin overlaid with cheap lace and the biggest collar she had ever seen and rosettes on the sleeves and gleesh, were those fake pearl and rhinestone spikes? “I’ll take it.”</p><p>“Yes, Miss DelFino,” Mrs. Duckart said, a gleam in her eye. “Do you want me to send it to the DelFino townhouse in Barsoom or to DelFino Castle? After I make the alterations, naturally.” She whipped out a tape measure and held it up.</p><p>“Neither,” Ulla said, mind racing. “I want it wrapped to go with me, along with some kind of a stand to display it. And I want an exact copy made and shipped to the DelFino townhouse and I’ll pay extra for speed.”</p><p>“You’re taking <em>that</em> with us? But it won’t fit you,” Silas said, bemused and dazzled by torrents of rhinestones.</p><p>“I’m not wearing it. It’s for John RedHawk and Parminder Investigations. If he knows what Lannie was wearing, he might find her faster because he can go places I can’t. Someone has this dress. One of us will find that person and then we’ll be closer to finding Lannie.” Mr. RedHawk seems reasonable even if he is working for Dimitri Orlov and he, at least, won’t let Lannie die even though Dimitri would, Ulla thought. Mr. RedHawk doesn’t know about the Pearls.</p><p>Mrs. Duckart watched Ulla closely. She’d have to read the columns at once. Hadn’t there been some DelFino scandal recently?</p><p>“Will there be anything else, my lady, while Alice and Bahni pack the gown? It’s beautiful workmanship, if I do say so myself.”</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Ulla said. She stroked the extravagantly full skirt and noticed her bitten fingernails snagging on the lace. “Do you carry gloves?”</p><p>“I certainly do.”</p><p>“Good. I’ll get a few pairs while I’m waiting. Oh. And Silas, who wanted to speak with you? I didn’t think you knew anyone in this part of Barsoom.”</p><p>“I don’t. I tell you during the ride to Parminder Investigations. If you’d permit me to accompany you.” He smiled, his gray granite eyes warming. “I am having the most fun I’ve had in a long time escorting you, Ulla and yes, I do want to marry you. You would be the best daimyah Avongale has ever had.”</p><hr/><p>When Silas stepped outside Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies to follow the street urchin, he had no idea who wanted to speak with him. No one knew he was here. He had planned to surprise Ulla and he had. Along with that low-caste laborer who had dared to touch the hands of the future daimyah of Avongale.</p><p>He followed the boy past the next storefront and there, waiting in the doorway, was the low-caste laborer. Yair Buruk, or so Ulla said. He opened his mouth but the laborer was faster.</p><p>“Avongale. Miss DelFino deserves far better than what she’s been getting,” Yair said rapidly. “You’ve heard of her dinner with those Keerkehgard sods? They’ll do their best to harm her and I can’t do anything about it at my level. But you, you’re a risto, so you can.”</p><p>Silas eyed Yair. “I read the story but I wasn’t sure how exaggerated it was. You know how gossip columnists lie.”</p><p>“Not in this case. I was Miss DelFino’s waiter at Chez Gramscee and I’m sure the only reason Miss DelFino and Lady Ottilie made it to their carriage was because I escorted them. Both Keerkehgards threatened her repeatedly in my hearing.”</p><p>“What is your relationship to Miss DelFino?” Silas asked. He leaned forward slightly, onto the balls of his feet. He was used to being underestimated because of his slim build and took full advantage of that fact.</p><p>Yair caught his readying move and smiled coldly. “You look like you can handle yourself, unlike too many ristos I’ve met. I met Miss DelFino at the Great Hospital and then at Chez Gramscee. A few days later, I met her again and persuaded her to file a missing person’s report about her cousin with the police.”</p><p>“You were useful. What is a crib?”</p><p>“The cheapest whorehouses in the worst slums. Unwilling girls are chained to beds and serve all comers. There’s not so much as a whisper about a risto girl in any of them and believe me, there would be. It would be a major selling point.”</p><p>“Gleesh,” Silas said, taken aback. “I didn’t know anything like that existed.”</p><p>“Welcome to the other nine-tenths of Barsoom. Keep Miss DelFino safe. She thinks her name protects her while she talks to everyone from back-alley whores to cathedral priests and so far, it has.”</p><p>“But it may not in the future,” Silas finished the thought.</p><p>“No. My lady Ulla is fearless and focused and she’ll do anything to rescue her cousin, so she’s not thinking about her own safety. It’s not just those Keerkehgard sods. Barsoom has slavers and those men would welcome a prize like Miss DelFino or her cousin. Keep her safe.”</p><p>“<em>Slavers</em>?” Silas had heard many, many stories about the risks of Barsoom and had discounted most of them as provincial exaggerations. But perhaps they weren’t.</p><p>“Yeah. They don’t operate in the open and the risk is low, but it is there.”</p><p>“I will protect <em>my</em> lady Ulla to the best of my ability, Yair,” Silas replied. “My thanks to you.” He bowed gracefully, a gentleman bowing to a near-equal, and spun on his heel and returned to Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon, his mind whirling.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Witnesses lie all the time, my lord Dimitri</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mr. Parminder gaped, slack-jawed, at the most astonishing ballgown he’d ever seen. His secretary, normally the most blasé of women, was gazing at it adoringly.</p><p>“Where did <em>that</em> come from?” Mr. Parminder asked. The ballgown overwhelmed the reception area, demanding attention from everyone within eyeshot and out onto the busy street. The image was burned into his retinas because closing his eyes did not make it disappear.</p><p>“Miss DelFino dropped it off for you and Mr. RedHawk, Mr. Parminder,” his secretary replied absently. “Isn’t it just the most beautiful gown you’ve ever seen?”</p><p>“I prefer the word ‘remarkable’,” Mr. Parminder said dryly and blinked at the splendor of satin overlaid with cheap lace and a snowstorm of rhinestones. Whoever designed this dress believed that simple and elegant were synonyms for boring. “Why did Miss DelFino do this and is she still here?”</p><p>He checked the office warily, but there was no sign of the harpy and his secretary wouldn’t be looking so calm if the harpy was still here. Even so, it wouldn’t do to be careless as Miss DelFino had been known to leap back inside the moment he sat back down with a nerve-soothing cup of tea laced with scotch. He had been drinking a lot more tea laced with scotch since accepting this particular investigation.</p><p>His secretary briefed him and then lapsed into awed, dreamy silence again.</p><p>“I see,” said Mr. Parminder to his oblivious secretary. If John RedHawk, as dogged an investigator as one could hope for, couldn’t discover where the twin of this dress had disappeared to, then he didn’t deserve to be working for Parminder Investigations.</p><p>The bell at the door jingled and Mr. Parminder jumped. The harpy had returned to berate him about his poor performance but no, it was the Orlov lordling who stopped dead when he spotted the gown.</p><p>“You found Yilanda? Why the hellation didn’t you contact me at once!” Dimitri roared. “Where is that worthless fool, RedHawk!”</p><p>“No, my lord Dimitri,” Mr. Parminder said soothingly while thinking longingly of restful cups of tea laced with scotch. “Miss Yilanda DelFino remains lost. Miss Ulla DelFino discovered a twin of the dress Miss Yilanda wore to the cathedral, purchased it, and brought it to us so RedHawk can better search for whoever has it.”</p><p>“Who the hellation cares about who has that hideous gown?” Dimitri screamed even louder. Damnation, everyone around him was insane and he was pouring coin into open pits, coin that was desperately needed in Orlov.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” Mr. Parminder said coldly. It was time to educate this arrogant risto.</p><p>“I understand that you are desperate to find Miss Yilanda. However, you are not thinking clearly. Miss Yilanda had help leaving Barsoom. She did not leave the city in that ballgown or she would have left numerous witnesses in her wake as that gown is impossible to miss. Nor was that gown abandoned at the cathedral or it would have been recovered at once. Whoever has that gown will know where Miss Yilanda went, what Miss Yilanda was wearing so we can stop handing out wanted posters showing her in an expensive tea frock, and they may even know who assisted Miss Yilanda in her escape. That dress is a far better clue than a postcard. Keep in mind that while Miss Yilanda wrote that postcard, it may have been someone else who mailed it in Merreth.”</p><p>Dimitri opened his mouth to yell, closed it, then opened it again. “My sister assures me that Yilanda wrote the postcard.”</p><p>“I am sure your sister is correct, my lord. However, the postcard gives us no clue as to <em>how</em> Miss Yilanda got to Merreth in the amount of time she had. Without a witness verifying her physical presence, we do not know if Miss Yilanda was actually <em>in</em> the Merreth waystation post office. Anyone can drop an already written, undated, stamped and addressed postcard in a mailbox, including someone who is trying to lay a false trail.”</p><p>Dimitri gaped at Mr. Parminder for several minutes and finally said, “that …. Makes sense.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord Dimitri. It does. RedHawk is already out on the street with sketches of the dress and samples of the fabric. Someone has this gown and he will find that someone.”</p><p>“That postal clerk saw Lannie. I’m sure she lied to us,” Dimitri said. “She lied to <em>me</em>.”</p><p>“Witnesses lie all the time, my lord Dimitri. It goes with the territory. What we at Parminder Investigations look for are <em>many</em> witnesses so we can cross-check their statements and as of this moment, there is only one possible witness to Miss Yilanda’s presence in Merreth. The postal clerk. John questioned everyone at the waystation, at the café, at the hotel, at the train station, and currently has a local stringer questioning the shopkeepers in Merreth. To date, not one single person admits to seeing Miss Yilanda. We cannot say the postal clerk lied. Not yet. If John’s stringer finds <em>anyone</em> <em>else</em> who saw Miss Yilanda in Merreth, then yes, we can say the postal clerk lied.”</p><p>“This is …”</p><p>“Why you hired us and not any other agency in Barsoom, my lord Dimitri. You have, I trust, given <em>us</em> all the pertinent facts?”</p><p>Mr. Parminder watched Dimitri carefully. All clients lied; that went with the territory too. However, RedHawk stated regularly that Orlov’s lies were of stunning importance, important enough to completely derail his enquiries, and Mr. Parminder was beginning to agree with him. It should not have taken this long to locate a terrified and hysterical young woman of the aristocracy, lost in Barsoom. Parminder Investigations had a sterling reputation based on successful investigations. He did not want to fail with Orlov, the most important client he had ever taken on.</p><p>“Every last one of them,” Dimitri growled, feeling more like a trapped bear than ever, biting and clawing against the bars of a cage that grew ever tighter.</p><p>“Very good, my lord Dimitri,” Mr. Parminder said. John RedHawk was correct. Orlov was lying and this lie was crucial in determining what happened to Yilanda DelFino and why. He could no longer count on easily and quickly locating the missing risto as he had originally believed.</p><p>Dimitri watched Mr. Parminder and knew, <em>knew</em> that the man recognized his lie. But not, thank all his ancestors all the way back to Madame Orlov, what he was lying about. He’d have to go back to Merreth alone and beat the truth out of that damned postal clerk. Except that he couldn’t get away with it in a government corridor and the Martian post office was already on the alert because that double-damned postal inspector had spoken to the postal clerk and if anything happened to <em>her</em>, Orlov would be sued. The truth would come out and his demesne would be ruined past redemption.</p><p>Damn Yilanda and damn Rastislav for being such a purblind fool to risk the Pearls of Orlov chasing his mad dream for sons.</p><p>“Have your other stringers found out more about Nelly after her disappearance in Gloddin?” Dimitri asked, hoping for something he could take back to the Orlov townhouse that would calm the sot.</p><p>“No, my lord, and that in and of itself is suspicious,” Mr. Parminder replied. “Unlike Miss Yilanda, say, Nelly was observed by a number of people in Barsoom who came forth in response to our adverts and fliers. Nelly was observed by a number of people on the train to Westernmost, beginning with the purchase of her through ticket at the train station. While onboard, she flirted with every male staffer in her attempts to upgrade her travel arrangements without paying for them. She solicited male passengers in the same manner. Then she met the known adventuress, Mrs. Pondicherry, and vanished without a trace. That is very suspicious. Do you have facts, perhaps, about any relationship between Mrs. Pondicherry and Orlov?”</p><p>“No,” Dimitri said at once.</p><p>Another lie, thought Mr. Parminder, watching how Dimitri Orlov stood, the tightness across his shoulders, the pulse in his throat quickened, his tenseness around the eyes. But a different kind of lie; a humiliating one instead of a ruinous one.</p><p>“Is there, perhaps, a connection between Miss Yilanda and the housemaid, Nelly?”</p><p>“No,” Dimitri said in surprise. “That would be impossible.”</p><p>At last, Mr. Parminder thought. Some truth and perhaps something useful.</p><p>“Then we can proceed as we have; knowing there is no connection between the two young women.”</p><hr/><p>“We have to get you a horse, Lannie. Traveling like this is taking too damn long,” Fen said as they strode north along the edge of the Corridor road. Once again, they were walking while Coppertail carried only their gear. This morning’s drizzle had long since dried up and their clothes were drying onto their bodies, stiff and unpleasant, but no longer quite as smelly. The heat was pleasant but very soon now, the day would heat up and both of them would be sweating.</p><p>“That’s true,” Lannie said.</p><p>They were still traveling parallel to the western borders of DelFino’s vast lands. The 10° Latitude government corridor forming the northern border of DelFino was getting closer but so slowly. She glanced warily to the east, to what used to be home, then over to the western horizon. Woo — vast, arrogant, wealthy far beyond DelFino’s resources, and utterly amoral — lay on the other side of the government corridor. She could expect less help from Woo than she could from DelFino even without the lure of the Pearls of Orlov becoming the Pearls of Woo.</p><p>“We’re getting closer to Eljinn, aren’t we? Maybe there?” Eljinn had been the biggest upcoming town on the last waystation map and might have significant DelFino investments, but she didn’t know. She’d have to be careful not to be seen.</p><p>“Possibly,” Fen replied. “It’s at the crossroads of the Pole-To-Pole and the 10° Latitude Corridors so it sees a lot of traffic. Eljinn was the biggest city I’d ever seen, until I saw Barsoom. Too many people to notice us. We might be able to safely sell a pearl or two and buy a horse that isn’t terrible, like all the rest of the horses I’ve seen since I left the Ennaretee.”</p><p>Lannie stroked Coppertail’s neck making the gelding whicker in approval and nudge her for a scritch. “I don’t know much about horses, but I do know that Coppertail is exceptional.”</p><p>“Best horse I ever owned,” Fen said and wished Lannie was stroking his neck like she did the gelding who was clearly enjoying the attention. “Couldn’t get my dad or the HorseMaster to see it, though, and that’s why Coppertail is a gelding and not siring the best horses HighTower will ever have.”</p><p>“Another outstanding horse will come along,” Lannie said consolingly. “You must have a good eye.”</p><p>Fen thought of his family openly discounting his opinions. They’d never stop thinking of him as the runt of the litter. “I’ll need it when we look at horses in Eljinn. There’s got to be a livery stable or two with horses for sale.”</p><p>He looked up at the sky, studying the swiftly moving clouds. “Another tarp would be helpful. Never saw so much rain in my life and it looks like it will rain some more.”</p><p>“Gleesh,” said Lannie. “At least we’ll get washed clean again. Sort of.”</p><p>She chewed nervously on her lip. “Have you, um, seen any signs of those bandits you were talking about?”</p><p>“Not a thing. I also haven’t seen any signs of local sheriffs, Martian government Internal Security, or DelFino patrolling the corridor like we do back home. I just can’t believe it, Lannie. At HighTower, we would never shirk our duty like DelFino is doing. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how they let Orlov abuse you and in a cathedral too!”</p><p>“I never heard of a demesne patrolling the government corridors,” Lannie said. “Isn’t the government supposed to do that?”</p><p>“They should, but they don’t. I understand why they don’t back home. Robinsin is tiny and the sheriff has got thousands of hectares to patrol and no manpower so we do it. HighTower, VanDenRooz, Aguillero, and when they can, Winzlow.”</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said. She’d never heard of any of those other demesnes. “I’ve been thinking about that snake. I think I need to learn what lives out here so I know when to scream.”</p><p>“Don’t scream, Lannie, please.” He chuckled and added “my ears are still ringing.”</p><p>She giggled. “You sound like my brother. He exaggerated all the time.” She went silent and her face fell. Fen watched her mood sink. “I hope he got my postcard. I hope he cares.”</p><p>“I’m sure he does,” Fen replied. Even if the fool did nothing to protect you, he thought. “And you said your mama?”</p><p>“She was sick. I hope she’s better.”</p><p>“Your postcard will make her better. Want to send one from Eljinn? I got plenty and then she and your brother can at least know where you’ve been.”</p><p>Lannie peered around Coppertail in bewilderment. “How could they know if I don’t tell them?”</p><p>Fen grinned. “The postmark will tell them. Location and date both. That’s how my family knows where I’ve been.”</p><p>There was a long silence, broken only by the clop of Coppertail’s hooves, the hubbub around them on the road, the distant sound of birds and the wind and the train coming towards them, roaring on its way to Barsoom.</p><p>“I didn’t know that,” Lannie said.</p><p>Charlton knew where she was.</p><p>Or rather, where she had been. If he got the postcard. He knew she’d stolen the Pearls of Orlov. She had mailed him the earrings in case there was any doubt she still had the Pearls! If they had arrived safely. Would he tell Dimitri Orlov? Who else knew she had been in Merreth? She knew Orlov was looking for her because of the wanted poster she found and ripped down in the park in Weer. How many other wanted posters would she find and rip down? How much longer did she want to wait before asking Fen if HighTower would be willing to take her in?</p><p>“Another postcard would be nice,” she mumbled, staring at the endless road ahead. “My brother can tell mama I’m alive. After we get me a horse so we can get to Darnay faster. And a tarp so we can sleep drier.”</p><p>“Let’s add some raingear for you,” Fen added.</p><p>“Okay.” Gleesh. Everyone knew exactly when she had been in Merreth. Maybe her relatives and that horrible drunken geezer daimyo of Orlov thought she was walking to Ranaglia. Lannie clung to the notion, hoping it might be true. She would definitely not try her luck begging for sanctuary in Ranaglia, close relatives or not.</p><hr/><p>“You are useless!” Rastislav screamed at Dimitri upon his return to the Orlov townhouse. “You hired the most useless investigators in Barsoom! The Pearls are <em>gone</em> and it is —”</p><p>Dimitri lunged for Rastislav’s throat, clutching it tightly until the sot choked and began turning an alarming shade of puce. It felt so very, very good to wrap his fingers around the sot’s throat, feeling his blood vessels pulse under his thumbs, seeing his eyes swell and blood vessels burst as he let his rage pour out. He had been wanting to strangle the sot for years and it felt wonderful.</p><p>“— <em>Your</em> fault, you drunken, degenerate fool!” Dimitri screamed back. “You brought the Pearls to Barsoom against the express wishes of my father and uncle Ljubo. Exactly as you swore you would not. What would Madame Orlov say to you? She speaks to you nightly. I will tell her tonight in my own dreams!”</p><p>He squeezed tighter.</p><p>“Dimitri? My lord?” Albion said hesitantly. He waved both hands timidly. “You should perhaps let go of the daimyo’s throat? We are in Barsoom and the city police might be difficult about you murdering your daimyo?”</p><p>The rotted ham’s words penetrated and Dimitri forced his hands to loosen. “You are … correct,” he said. “We are not in Orlov.”</p><p>Rastislav choked and gasped and wheezed and slumped down onto the sofa, clutching his brutalized throat and shocked to his core. And terrified. Dimitri had never been properly respectful to him but he had never been violent either. He had behaved like that thug, Charlton DelFino. The khuyesosh the stupid cripple married.</p><p>“You, you,” he wheezed, trying to get his voice back.</p><p>“A drink, my dearest friend?” Albion said and held out a glass brimful of red, red wine. Rastislav snatched it and poured the wine down his throat and held out his glass for another, Madame Orlov’s threats forgotten in the heady, delicious liquid soothing his throat and warming his gut.</p><p>Dimitri made a move to stop the rotted ham and thought better of it. The sot was far easier to manage when he was drunk and if he was lucky, if everyone in Orlov had any luck left at all, the sot’s liver would give out under the sudden onslaught of wine after weeks of abstention. The sot could die and his hands would remain clean.</p><p>Very quickly, the decanters in the library were emptied and the sot lay groaning, half-conscious, on the floor in front of the marble table bearing the tantalus.</p><p>Albion whispered to Dimitri, “I hope I did well.” He raised an inquisitive eyebrow.</p><p>“You did. For now.”</p><p>“We in DelFino are familiar with the Barsoom authorities and while our townhouse is supposed to be strictly under DelFino control, the Barsoom police do get testy if murders take place.”</p><p>Dimitri turned to look Albion in the eye, something he normally avoided because the possibility of an audience made the ham become even more irritating than usual. “You have experienced this?”</p><p>“Not personally and it was a number of years ago, but yes, the Barsoom police become demanding and pushy when important people are murdered. I did not think you wanted added difficulties while we search for my wayward daughter and the Pearls.”</p><p>“You thought correctly.” Dimitri smiled, baring all his teeth in a wolfish grin. “But don’t think in return that I will call off Goryonov’s dogs. I cannot and I don’t want to.”</p><p>“Of course, my lord Dimitri,” Albion said and smiled charmingly and bowed deeply as Dimitri stomped off out of the library to somewhere else. Albion backed away to his book of plays, laying open on the table, and picked it up but the words remained unread. He had to escape the townhouse but how? All the entrances and exits were being watched and if he did manage to slip away, Dimitri or that damned butler, Matsuda, or one of the servants would race outside to inform Goryonov’s henchmen the instant they realized he was gone and the hunt would be on. He repressed a shudder. Unlike Yilanda, he didn’t have the Pearls to trade for his freedom. He had nothing but his clothes and his talents and Goryonov would not accept either as repayment for gambling debts.</p><p>Damn that girl. What had happened to the dutiful, obedient daughter he had raised? It was all the fault of her worthless brother Charlton, and Ulla, that bossy harpy.</p><p>Behind him, Albion heard the sot vomiting up wine onto the carpets. Good. He’d been afraid he’d have to shove a finger down the sot’s throat, forcing him to expel all that wine and possibly losing his finger in the process. As long as the sot lived, he wouldn’t be thrown out. If the sot died, Dimitri would frog-march him out to Goryonov’s waiting henchmen as soon as he heard the death rattle.</p><hr/><p>“My darling Ulla,” Silas said. “This has been a fascinating morning, but I must leave you. Duty calls.”</p><p>“It always does,” Ulla said. She thought of Ottilie’s admonishments about her lack of social graces. Right. She was supposed to show an interest in what he had to do when what she really wanted to say was ‘take your time so I can visit the police substation without you hovering over me’.</p><p>“May I ask what you’re doing?”</p><p>“Ottilie coached you, didn’t she.”</p><p>Ulla choked back a snicker. “Yeah, she did. But I am curious because you must have come to Barsoom for more than just meeting me. Is it because the minor conclaves are still in session?”</p><p>Silas gave her another of his calculating, evaluating, practical smiles. “Yes, it is. Avongale’s council of elders likes sending its frontrunners to Barsoom for business and politics. They like testing us to see how well we do. The major conclave will be opening tomorrow and I’ll be attending most of the events. I’ll even get to present one of Avongale’s proposals about reallocating water rights in the Ennagzee.”</p><p>“Oooh. Important,” Ulla said. “You’ll have to be persuasive because someone always loses when water gets reallocated.”</p><p>He smiled more widely. “Yes. Someone always does but this time it won’t be Avongale.” He glanced up at the sky. “Pity Olde Earthe can’t ship us some of their water. They’ve got plenty to spare.”</p><p>“Impractical,” Ulla said. “Water is heavy.”</p><p>“I know, but they could ship us more equipment than they do. Those rockets should be fully loaded both ways to amortize costs. We have a Dirac mine on our lands and a Magnetron base and, and …” His voice trailed off in puzzlement. “It’s strange. The last shipment of equipment was short and it’s critical to keep the Magnetrons going to keep the terraforming moving along swiftly.”</p><p>“Our daimyo, Zachery, said his sources think something’s happening on Olde Earthe.”</p><p>“He’s right and it’s bad. Anyway, I’ll be busy for the next week or so but I want to meet you every night for dinner. You can tell me about visiting police stations and talking to back-alley whores.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Dimitri told me in Merreth,” Silas replied, deliberately omitting that so had Yair Buruk that morning.</p><p>“Oh. I’ll think about it. Ottilie wants me to meet everyone who’s in town so I may not be free.”</p><p>“Why?” Silas leaned in closer. “Our matchmaker has already told her that I wish to marry you and you have not said no.”</p><p>“It’s for damage control,” Ulla admitted. “Too many people think I have no social skills because of that awful dinner at Chez Gramscee with Andreas and Harcourt Keerkehgard that got into all the columns and I don’t have the best social skills anyway and plenty of people think I’m a bossy harpy and my searching for Lannie makes people think I’m obsessed and there’s always gossip about my mother’s behavior and I’m not like her even if I do look like her.”</p><p>“You are nothing like your mother and you are not a bossy harpy.”</p><p>He leaned still closer and kissed her gently, then deeper, not caring who on the surrounding street saw them and she let him.</p><p>When Silas left her, Ulla sat motionless in the carriage.</p><p>“Where to next, my lady?” Lesten asked, interrupting her reverie.</p><p>“The police station, please,” Ulla told him absently.</p><p>Her thoughts were a jumble. Silas wasn’t Yair. She didn’t feel the same way about him at all. But Yair was from a different world with dreams of his own and his world did not intersect with hers. His family was searching for a bride for him according to Mrs. Duckart; a bride from his own class. She had to be realistic. Silas Avongale cared about her and wanted her. That was clear enough. He wasn’t trying to keep her from finding Lannie. Not one of her other dinner dates had bothered to show any sympathy or concern for her lost cousin nor did they understand why she had to find Lannie. Too many members of the Four Hundred had written off Lannie as being worthless, damaged goods but Silas had not.</p><p>Silas Avongale had understood and even said he approved because it demonstrated how much she would care about Avongale and its inhabitants.</p><p>What was love? It could grow from an arranged marriage if the participants were decent people who put their minds to it. She’d seen plenty of evidence for that conclusion just as she’d seen evidence where the madly adoring couple who married exclusively for love ended up at each other’s throats after a few years. It was the couple who made the difference; how they treated each other and how they chose to behave. Poorly matched, bad-tempered, selfish people never enjoyed happy marriages, however they met.</p><p>She could be happy enough with Silas and eventually, as time passed, she’d forget Yair Buruk. If she set her mind to it.</p><p>Lannie was the reason she’d met Yair Buruk. And John RedHawk. And Mr. Parminder and today, Mrs. Duckart, and all the shopkeepers and pushcart vendors and policemen and morgue attendants and prostitutes and everyone else she’d met, searching for her lost cousin. If Lannie hadn’t vanished, she would have been introduced to Silas Avongale and never once entertained doubts about marrying him. She knew what her duty was to DelFino. Marrying Silas would have been an easy choice. A good choice.</p><p>Lannie had refused to marry the daimyo of Orlov and stolen the Pearls. She chose her own path and the repercussions would echo for generations.</p><p>Ulla shook her head, trying to clear it. With the information about the ballgown, she had to re-interview everyone who might have seen Lannie that fateful day. Someone had that ballgown. It was true that RedHawk and Dimitri Orlov would never stop looking for Lannie, but they didn’t care the way she did. She sat up straighter in the carriage and began working out exactly what she would say to the desk sergeant at the main police station in Barsoom. The police had had several days to work while she was in Merreth. Perhaps they had found something new.</p><hr/><p>Silas frowned at the letter to his cousin, Millicent. She knew half of Mars it seemed; not just the Four Hundred either, but rich merchants and important people in the free-cities in the government corridors. If there was anyone he knew who could uncover the full story about Andreas and Harcourt Keerkehgard, it would be Millicent. He drummed his fingers on the suite’s desk thoughtfully. Keerkehgard was a power in the southern agricultural zone. They would make a bad enemy for Avongale in the conclave, especially since both demesnes were agricultural and thus presumed allies even if they were in opposite hemispheres. He needed to know everything they did not want made public, not just what Andreas and Harcourt had done.</p><p>Every demesne had embarrassing secrets. Orlov certainly did because that story he’d been told about Rastislav falling in love at first sight with Yilanda DelFino was codswallop. Orlov had another reason for finding her, one they didn’t dare talk about, and it was of vital importance.</p><p>Yes. For the safety of his future daimyah and for the power it could bring, he’d have Millicent investigate Keerkehgard thoroughly and then he’d have her find out what she could about Orlov. DelFino was already an open book, even if they didn’t know it themselves.</p><p>The problem was the time it would take and what favors she would demand in return. Silas sighed, added a postscript, and sealed the letter. In the meantime, he’d schedule a private visit with Andreas and Harcourt Keerkehgard in the hospital. His own valet had discovered that no one visited them. Not even their own relatives visiting Barsoom for the conclaves, both minor and major. That fact demonstrated how poisonous they were, how badly they had screwed up, and also that they might be desperate to talk. It could be a very interesting conversation.</p><hr/><p>Another fruitless day, after a succession of fruitless days.</p><p>Ulla groaned with frustration. She’d been so sure she would find whoever had Lannie’s ballgown right away. No one could hide a dress like that. Mrs. Duckart’s copy had arrived that morning and the consensus in the DelFino townhouse from Zachery on down to the lowliest potboy was the same. There was no hiding this dress.</p><p>While waiting for the gown’s delivery, she had relentlessly canvassed the streets of Barsoom, sometimes running into Mr. RedHawk. He’d admitted he’d found nothing. She hadn’t seen Yair again.</p><p>She had seen Dimitri who was becoming increasingly irritable to everyone. He growled and snapped and was losing what few manners he had which was no surprise considering how desperately he needed to find the Pearls of Orlov. Her penpals out toward Easternmost had been supplying rumors about family infighting and money problems in Orlov and whispers about the true nature of the Pearls. Rastislav had come out in public and screamed in drunken hysteria in the center court of the Major Conclave and Dimitri and a few other members of the Orlov family had hustled him off the stage and he hadn’t been seen since. Orlov had yet to announce his death so Ulla assumed he was still alive and no one in the Orlov family had the spine to stick a poisoned knife into the sot’s heart.</p><p>She glared at the fanciful ormolu clock on the morning room’s mantlepiece. Despite the clues supplied by the gown and the postcard, Lannie was still missing. At least she didn’t have to check the morgue on a daily basis anymore, now that she knew Lannie had made it to Merreth. Or to somewhere. Dimitri and Mr. RedHawk had both informed her that anyone could drop a postcard into a mailbox.</p><p>“Your mail, Miss Ulla,” Grimaldi murmured at her side. She jumped in shock, recovered and took the silver tray. A letter from Iolanthe.</p><p>When she finished Iolanthe’s letter and digested her conclusions and her request, Ulla stared out the window into the busy street, long shadows forming with the afternoon sun. So. Anyone in the high latitudes of Mars could have bought that postcard from a Panschin stationery supplier. But it was unlikely that postcard would have been sold outside the region. Therefore, someone in the northern mining tier or the northern ranching tier was involved.</p><p>Who did she know who lived up there? She’d have to make a list of her penpals and ask for introductions to other potential correspondents at once. If Lannie showed up at some ranching tier demesne asking for sanctuary, she’d find out soon after. Assuming Lannie wasn’t running to Ranaglia. Lannie’s Ranaglia relatives had said they’d watch for her but had yet to report anything worthwhile. They would probably search harder if they knew Lannie was carrying the Pearls. They might also never admit Lannie arrived, if they got the Pearls and buried Lannie’s body.</p><p>Iolanthe’s request would be a challenge. How could she get Zachery to agree to letting her and Charlton come to Barsoom? If Iolanthe was correct, then the livery stable owner had misinterpreted the facts. He might know something and not realize it. Mr. RedHawk would agree. Whenever she saw him, Mr. RedHawk reminded her that witnesses regularly lied or made mistakes or thought something didn’t matter when it did.</p><p>The door to the morning room opened and Ottilie came in and sat down across from her.</p><p>“You’re looking well, Ulla,” Ottilie said, breaking the silence. She pursed her lips in disapproval.</p><p>“I’m sorry, auntie Ottilie,” Ulla said. “I was thinking and not paying attention. May I order you some tea?”</p><p>“No, thank you. Another letter from Iolanthe? Glad news perhaps?”</p><p>Ulla went still. There was the answer.</p><p>“No, aunt Ottilie. Not yet. I have a favor to ask of you.”</p><p>“Do you now. And what would you like me to do?”</p><p>“I want you to get Zachery to demand Iolanthe and Charlton visit Barsoom.”</p><p>Ottilie sniffed in disdain. “The daimyo has been crystal clear. Charlton is to remain on his estates rather than go haring off looking for his sister. I can’t work miracles.”</p><p>“You can work this miracle,” Ulla said and smirked. “You told me yourself that you would have never permitted Iolanthe to meet Charlton without her first being evaluated by doctors at the Great Hospital for her fitness to carry a baby to term. Because of her hip, remember?”</p><p>Ottilie permitted a tiny smile of approval to waft across her face.</p><p>“I do remember, Ulla. Zachery and the family would agree to this proposal. Nothing is more important than the safe production of children. Naturally, Iolanthe cannot, because of her lameness, come to Barsoom unaccompanied so Charlton must travel with her. It will take a bit of time, but Zachery will agree. Iolanthe can’t deliver babies out in the back of beyond with some ignorant and unwashed village midwife. She needs qualified and experienced midwives, perhaps even a surgical suite, when her time comes.”</p><p>“So you’ll do it?” Ulla asked eagerly.</p><p>“Favors have to be paid for, Ulla.”</p><p>“Oh. I thought nothing was more important than the safe production of children?”</p><p>“That’s very important but so is excellent relations between demesnes.” Ottilie smiled her reptilian smile. “I want something in return.”</p><p>Ulla sat back warily.</p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p>“Silas has to return to Avongale two days from now.”</p><p>“Yes. I’m meeting him for dinner again tonight. He tells me all about what the conclave has been doing and his presentations and speeches.”</p><p>“Very good. I will speak to the daimyo. I will get Zachery to agree to having Iolanthe and Charlton come to Barsoom to have her evaluated by the Obstetrics department at the Great Hospital. Naturally, they will have some free time so if they choose to sightsee in Barsoom, no one will carp.”</p><p>Ulla could feel the hairs prickle on the back of her neck; most unsettling and very rare for her. She’d never seen Ottilie look so much like a cat surrounded by unattended saucers of cream, bowls of goldfish, and cages of canaries. Or a crocodile in the river, contemplating unwary swimmers.</p><p>“In exchange for my persuading Zachery, Ulla my dear, I want you to travel to Avongale with Silas and meet his family.”</p><p>“<em>What</em>?”</p><p>“He wants to marry you. You have not said you refuse. One could say you’ve been leading him on, my dear Ulla. Like your mother would.” Ottilie paused to observe Ulla’s reaction.</p><p>“Since you are nothing like your mother, I trust you are not leading poor Silas on only to abandon him later when it suits your own purposes. Go with Silas. Test him out in bed if you haven’t already. Tour Avongale. Meet his family and observe his peasants. You may return after a two-week visit if you do not decide to marry as soon as you arrive.”</p><p>“Uh, uh, uh.”</p><p>“Take a moment to think about it. Keep in mind that although you have been meeting other charming, well-connected, highly-placed young men for dinner, Silas is the clear frontrunner. None of <em>them</em> have wished to meet you a second time. I’m not sure why.”</p><p>“Two weeks?”</p><p>“Plus travel time back and forth. Hotel suites and private train compartments and so forth. You won’t leave his side. It will take me time to persuade Zachery, time to make travel arrangements for Charlton and Iolanthe, time for them to travel to Telduv before they get on a train. By the time they arrive in Barsoom, you should have returned as well.” Ottilie smiled again, showing all of her teeth. She had all the warmth of a lizard in the snow.</p><p>“You can accompany Iolanthe to the Great Hospital as well as take her sightseeing in Barsoom. Everyone will be happy. Or, Iolanthe and Charlton can remain on his estates until she actually does announce a glad event, in which case I will arrange for her to immediately travel to Barsoom for an obstetrics evaluation,” Ottilie said. “It may take months to years for Iolanthe to catch a baby. You choose.”</p><p>Ulla blindly reached for her tea and sipped, wishing her soothing herbal tea was laced with scotch like Mr. Parminder’s often was. She’d caught the odor during several of her visits and worked out what he was doing and right now, some alcohol would be most appreciated. Not scotch though. The smell was vile so the taste was probably vile too. She swallowed, one mouthful at a time, slowly, while Ottilie watched with the intentness of a fox watching juicy, mouthwateringly fat poultry.</p><p>She set the empty cup down firmly.</p><p>“I’ll do it,” Ulla said. “I’ll go to Avongale with Silas for two weeks in exchange for you getting Zachery to allow Iolanthe and Charlton to come to Barsoom.”</p><p>“I knew you would see reason, Ulla. You are somewhat brighter than your mother. Oh, almost forgot. One other condition.”</p><p>“Yes? More?” Maybe she should start lacing her tea with scotch and swallow it fast so she didn’t taste it. Or throw it at Ottilie.</p><p>“The grand finale ball of the conclave takes place the night before Silas leaves for Avongale. You know, the one you already said you would avoid. You’ll be attending it with him. If you like, you may wear that ballgown Mrs. Duckart delivered this morning.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. I am never going to eat a whole baby mouse so quit pestering me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The days passed swiftly, with little to separate one from the next other than rain and crowds. It was their camps that were changing, Lannie reflected. Fen had finally decided they were far enough away from Weer so he wasn’t as concerned about sheriffs looking for stolen pearls and they were hundreds of klicks north of Barsoom. He was making camp earlier and they were heading back to the Corridor road a bit later, all so he could teach her how to light a fire, care for Coppertail, and learn the plants and bugs and critters and even start recognizing cloud patterns.</p>
<p>It was astonishing how much she didn’t know and how much he did. The only thought Lannie had ever put into clouds in her previous life was their esthetics. Fen could appreciate a well-shaped cloud. Even more he could appreciate a sky filled with puffy, fluffy mounds of golden pink when the rising sun lit the sky. Or when cloud cover began to break apart and fingers of light, the fingers of Summer or so he said, reached through to light the steppes below. However, what Fen really liked about clouds was figuring out what the weather for the next hour would be and then swiftly learning if he was correct.</p>
<p>It reminded her of home and Charlton telling Walter and daddy that clouds mattered for weather-guessing and were not merely a topic for sparkling dinner conversation. It was startling to realized that even though Charlton had beaten up Fen at the livery stable, they agreed on how to discuss clouds.</p>
<p>That led back to the question of why calm, capable Fen who preferred to avoid trouble had beaten up Walter in the livery stable yard. It made no sense and she didn’t dare ask. He didn’t know she was Walter DelFino’s cousin or Charlton DelFino’s sister and even now, after weeks together, Lannie didn’t want to test his generosity. He made it plain how he loathed DelFino, with Orlov a close second. The ten pearls she had revealed were a minor sin compared with being related to <em>them</em>.</p>
<p>And then there were the plants, animals, bugs, birds. It was all fascinating and new and he loved teaching her and he admitted when he didn’t know something. He pushed her to remember what he’d said, he encouraged her to handle the bugs he caught, he was patient when she struggled with getting tinder to light, and all the while, Lannie thought of Charlton, clumsily teaching her not to give up.</p>
<p>That tenacity was coming in handy.</p>
<p>Although there were moments when Fen pushed too much and Lannie just couldn’t. Moments that reminded her of how very different his world was from the one she had grown up in.</p>
<p>This was one of them.</p>
<p>“It’s really good, Lannie,” Fen said cheerfully. He held out his knife, a chunk of unidentifiable meat speared on its tip. Well, not, Lannie had to admit, completely unidentifiable. It had come from somewhere inside a rabbit he had snared overnight. And he expected her to eat it.</p>
<p>That was the other reason Fen had started making camp earlier and breaking later. He wanted to set snares while they slept.</p>
<p>“I am sick to death of those damned mil-rats,” he said in explanation. “They are not fit for men to eat. It’s like eating despair and humiliation and if I don’t have to, I won’t. Besides, if I can trap something, we can eat every morning, you’ll learn more about keeping alive on the steppes, I’ll stay in practice, and we won’t have to stop as often for mil-rats.”</p>
<p>“But we’ll still have to stop for water,” Lannie argued.</p>
<p>“I don’t have to <em>ask</em> for water, Lannie,” Fen argued back. “It’s there in the cistern for anyone willing to pump it out. Mil-rats I got to <em>ask</em> for and then <em>sign</em> for and after that pawnbroker in Weer, I don’t want to get noticed any more than I have to, yeah?”</p>
<p>She thought of the wanted poster in Weer and how Charlton knew she’d been in Merreth and Gods only knew how many other people knew she’d been in Merreth and had to agree.</p>
<p>She stared at the crusty brown lump he held out for her. Avoiding being seen by waystation keepers did not make it look more appealing.</p>
<p>“I’ve eaten lots of rabbit but I don’t recognize that bit,” she mumbled. It did smell nice and she was hungry but even so.</p>
<p>“The liver. The best part!”</p>
<p>“I’ll pass. You enjoy it, Fen. I’ll eat um, that, um … back leg, I guess.”</p>
<p>He’d skinned the rabbit and roughly cut it up but it still looked distressingly too much like the animal it had come from. Cook back home raised and slaughtered rabbits all the time and she’d even seen their carcasses draining into a trough but this was too personal. Cook hadn’t expected or even wanted her to learn how to snap their necks or slit their bellies open to pull off the skin like a messy, gooey, hairy glove. Cook had expected Lannie to stay out of her kitchen (which Lannie was happy to do) and then eat what was set before her.</p>
<p>Charred rabbit was set before her.</p>
<p>Fen glowed with pride at having snared it and roasted it into something resembling edibility. So she ate it, nibble by nibble. It was acceptable, although not nearly as well-prepared as Cook would have done. No side dishes, no onions, no yams, no salad, no herbs for flavor although Fen did have his tiny salt pouch, and no dessert unless she wanted to gnaw on a vaguely citrus-like mil-rat. She thought longingly of the tarts Cook would make, rich with fruit and cream. Or buttery scones and fried yams and eggs for breakfast with as much fresh fruit as she could eat, fruit that someone else procured, washed, peeled, and sliced.</p>
<p>She’d run away from all that. What was she running to?</p>
<p>“Do you eat like this every day in HighTower?” Lannie asked after she’d gnawed the unlucky rabbit’s hind leg down to the spindly bones and started on the other hind leg. She was hungry and hunger improved the taste, although it did not make the meat less stringy.</p>
<p>“Only when we’re out on the steppes,” Fen replied. “Sure you don’t want the liver? I saved a bite for you.”</p>
<p>“Positive.”</p>
<p>Lannie spent the rest of the long, weary day proud of how she’d eaten the rabbit. The next time Fen got lucky with his snares (loops of intricately-braided fine rope that he carefully cleaned before putting away), she knew she’d be able to better cope with eating rabbit or whatever other unfortunate creature he snared. She might even talk herself into learning how to gut it and skin it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next morning, dawn woke them up as always. It had rained overnight again, making for an unpleasant night. Coppertail was moody and irritated, the snares were empty and it looked like another breakfast of mil-rats before they set out. Lannie found herself secretly relieved.</p>
<p>Then Fen spotted it as he came back from his own moment of privacy on the steppes.</p>
<p>“Lannie. Hold still.”</p>
<p>She froze. “A snake?” she whispered.</p>
<p>He’d make her examine it if he caught it. Maybe even eat it although how could you eat a snake? Fen had eaten snails so he wouldn’t turn up his nose at a snake. There had to be more meat on a snake than inside a little bitty snail shell and she couldn’t believe she was even contemplating the possibility.</p>
<p>“No.” He grinned fiercely. “I learned how to do this when I was a kid and I’ll teach you. Every gauchito in the Ennaretee learns how. It teaches you what you can do to stay alive.”</p>
<p>“Really?”</p>
<p>Oh Gods. It was a snake and he was going to catch it, kill it, and make her eat some. There must be a million little bones inside a snake along with Gods only knew what else. And she was hungry enough that she would.</p>
<p>“Poke up the fire while I clean out the nest.”</p>
<p>Oh Gods. Lots of snakes. She bent over the fire and behind her she heard Fen rustling through the damp grass and then he was besides her, his cupped hands full of baby mice.</p>
<p>He directed her in how to shape the bed of ash and then dropped the wiggling mice into the hot ash and swiftly covered them over and grinned at her, pleased with himself.</p>
<p>“This is a rite of passage for a gauchito, Lannie. Eating your first mouse. They’ll be done in a few minutes.”</p>
<p>“But, but you didn’t clean them,” Lannie protested. “Do you skin them afterwards? They’ll be all covered with ashes and they’ll be charred and, and…” Her voice trailed away as she gawked in horror at the mound of blazingly hot ashes.</p>
<p>“You suck them down whole.”</p>
<p>She couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Her mind went blank while her stomach heaved.</p>
<p>Eventually Fen decided they were done, raked the ashes to one side and speared a mouse with the tip of his knife. He waved it about to let it cool and shake off the ash crust and then held it out to Lannie. Tiny. Charred into crunchiness. Still recognizable. The tail dangled like a burnt worm.</p>
<p>“Your first mouse, Lannie.” He beamed at her.</p>
<p>She stared slack-jawed and was finally able to speak.</p>
<p>“Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“Hot meat, Lannie.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care. I’ll eat mil-rats.”</p>
<p>“Every gauchito learns to do this.”</p>
<p>“I am not a gauchito and I am never going to eat a whole baby mouse so quit pestering me. Eat them. I’m not going to watch. That is utterly disgusting.”</p>
<p>“Learning how to eat mice helps teach you to stay alive.”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Lannie, everyone does this.”</p>
<p>“Banded racers eat mice. I am not a snake so I don’t.”</p>
<p>“Suit yourself,” Fen said sulkily and swallowed the mouse whole in front of her.</p>
<p>She could not watch him wolf down the rest of the mice. She fished out a mil-rat from a saddlebag and when over to eat next to Coppertail, hobbled nearby. He looked irritated with her too, as irritated as Fen did, but Coppertail could be soothed with choice grass. She fed him, succulent stem by stem, preferring to hear the gelding chewing and the sounds of the steppes in the morning and the soggy crunch of the damp mil-rat she was nibbling on, rather than Fen slurping down charred baby mice.</p>
<p>Do I really want to go to HighTower? Lannie thought. I don’t have much choice and it’s going to be even more different from DelFino and the Hot Zone than I thought it would be. Gleesh. They’re savages up there. Baby mice. I will never be that hungry.</p>
<p>Maybe in Eljinn, after they sold a pearl and bought her a horse, they could buy food for the rest of the trip. Anything would be better than whole baby mice and anything other than whole baby mice would be a nice change from mil-rats.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Ottilie was as good as her word. Ulla’s train pulled into the Barsoom train station the same day that Charlton and Iolanthe were due to arrive. She decided to wait the four hours in the first-class lounge rather than return to the townhouse and turn around and come back. They had too much to talk about and she didn’t want to waste time being late. Letters were all very well, but she’d been gone for weeks and had had time to think. All those weeks traveling to Avongale and back also meant that if Iolanthe and Charlton had discovered new clues, like another postcard from Lannie, she would not have been told.</p>
<p>Besides, it would postpone Ottilie’s questions about whether or not she would marry Silas Avongale. He had been charming, attentive company. He was excellent in bed and it seemed Ottilie was correct that men were like dogs. He certainly seemed pleased that she took full advantage of the rare opportunity to enjoy as much sex as she wanted. His family seemed to approve of her, but she was a DelFino so Silas was, in every sense of the phrase, marrying up so they wouldn’t say no unless she went out of her way to offend them and maybe not then. Which she had not done. Avongale was interesting (sometimes to the point of being alien and weird) and could use her talents. She had worked hard at removing Yair from her thoughts but memories of him popped up at inopportune moments. It would take time to consider what to do next about Silas and sitting in the lounge for the next four hours would provide too much time to think about the future rushing towards her and whether or not she wanted it.</p>
<p>There was also the question of what her father would say, currently so far away and working with Charlton trying to save his estates. Her father would not want her to lead Silas on and then walk away. Her mother had abandoned them when she was a little girl and the memory still hurt. Sitting in the lounge gave too much time to think and remember. She couldn’t treat Silas like her mother would; as a convenience to be tossed aside when she no longer needed him to find Lannie.</p>
<p>Silas deserved better.</p>
<p>Her father would say so, in his slow, thoughtful way. Her father had never said a hateful word about her mother abandoning them but it had torn him apart. He had never remarried, or even taken a lady-friend. At the same time, her mother’s trysts filled the gossip columns with salacious stories. She could not behave like her mother and she did not want to wait hours in the first-class lounge and think about Silas and what was the correct, dutiful course of action.</p>
<p>But if she went home, Ottilie lay in wait, a crocodile waiting for an unwary gazelle at the water’s edge, ripping it into bloody shreds. Zachery would take an interest too. He would want to know how Avongale handled their internal governance, peasants, agriculture, livestock, and everything else and did they have any methods that DelFino could implement to improve their own internal governance, peasants, agriculture, and livestock management. Then he would discuss marriage settlements and what Avongale would provide to DelFino in exchange for the great honor being shown to them by allowing a DelFino to marry a member of Avongale, even a possible future daimyo.</p>
<p>She didn’t want to face that inquisition either. Ulla fidgeted in her seat as other worries crowded in.</p>
<p>What was Lannie doing? What was she eating, wherever she was? She wasn’t sitting in a dry, well-upholstered chair with a menu in front of her in the first-class lounge in the Barsoom train station out of the rain. She had checked, just in case Lannie miraculously appeared.</p>
<p>Ulla sighed, studied her slowly regrowing fingernails, and wondered if eleven in the morning was too early to order a glass of wine along with those deliciously aromatic buttered scones the person at the table next to them was nibbling on. A late-morning snack would fill some time while she decided what to do.</p>
<p>“What do you think, Natha? Too early for wine?”</p>
<p>Natha glanced at the clock. “Yes, Miss Ulla. Much too early.”</p>
<p>“Darn. Tea and scones then, and sliced guava.”</p>
<p>A thought beckoned and Ulla studied the relatively large table she was sharing with her lady’s maid. It was surprisingly clean. She had space to spread out on and she’d never discussed Lannie’s disappearance with Natha. Perhaps Natha would have a fresh idea since she herself was fresh out. Explaining everything to Natha might clarify her own thoughts about what to do next. Canvassing the streets of Barsoom hadn’t gotten her any closer to finding Lannie, although John RedHawk had had several weeks to work while she’d been in Avongale with Silas.</p>
<p>Hmm. Would RedHawk tell her if he found anything? Dimitri wouldn’t. But he might tell his sister, Iolanthe. She was DelFino now, no longer Orlov, but Dimitri might not remember that fact and tell Iolanthe everything that RedHawk discovered and then Iolanthe would tell her.</p>
<p>Ulla smiled across the first-class lounge at the huge, rain-streaked windows. This might work. Explaining her thoughts to Natha was a good rehearsal for speaking with Iolanthe and Charlton. They could plan what to do, in-between Iolanthe’s trips to the Great Hospital’s Obstetrics ward. She would go along, because it was bound to be unpleasant and Iolanthe shouldn’t be alone for those examinations and it wasn’t like Charlton would be invited into the examining room. He would have to wait outside doing what he did best; irritating all the other people in the waiting room.</p>
<p>She glanced over at the clock. Just under four hours until Iolanthe and Charlton’s train arrived. She had to get started. Iolanthe had an active imagination and could spot the connections she’d been missing. She reached into her bag and pulled out her bulging notebook to bring Natha up to date.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It took a few hours of trudging along the Corridor road for Fen to stop being mad at Lannie and realize what had really happened with the nest of baby mice.</p>
<p>She hadn’t been afraid to say ‘no’ to him.</p>
<p>The realization was startling. Lannie had felt safe enough to argue back. Would she have said ‘yes’ to the classic rite of passage when they’d first met? Probably not, but there was no way to go back in time and check. The point was that she’d felt secure enough to trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt her for refusing. Any woman in the Ennaretee would feel safe to say ‘no’ but he’d seen more than enough of humanity along the Corridor road and in Barsoom to know that didn’t hold true elsewhere.</p>
<p>He could feel the happiness building again, the warmth he felt whenever he looked at her, plodding patiently and uncomplainingly towards the north and Darnay. She was so brave, so tough, and so pretty with her big brown eyes and long, dark hair. She was a prize worth far more than pearls. He had to bring it up soon: her coming to HighTower with him. With the eight pearls as a dowry, his family wouldn’t complain and besides, even if she was a runaway housemaid, Lannie was from DelFino. As a couple, they would have every chance of being fertile since they were so far apart genetically. He didn’t know of a single person in HighTower, his quad, or even his ninesquare who was related to anyone from the Equator region. Their children would be sought-after marriage partners for the same reason.</p>
<p>If Lannie agreed to come to HighTower and then said ‘yes’ to him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Lannie glanced over at Fen. They’d been walking for hours, him leading Coppertail, just as they did every day, but he’d been sullen and not just because of the sudden drizzle. It was because she’d refused to eat those disgusting baby mice. He was upset, but he hadn’t raged and swore. Or worse, hit her. Daddy had never hit mama, never even threatened to. He always claimed hitting people weaker than himself was a sign of lack of character which was amusing in a sad way considering his complete lack of character. But she had heard whispered stories. Not every man held to that standard.</p>
<p>But it could be true of Fen. He’d helped her back at the livery stable when he had been sullen and angry and desperate to get out of Barsoom. But he’d still aided her, a stranger who got in his way. He’d never once given up on her or abandoned her, even when her feet had been torn raw and he had to delay his journey home even more.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t abandon her, even if he was annoyed at how she’d refused what sounded like an important rite of passage for gauchitos at HighTower and the rest of the Ennaretee. Whatever gauchitos were. She’d never heard the word before. It didn’t sound rude.</p>
<p>He hadn’t left her out on the steppes. He had eight Pearls tucked into his salt pouch inside his tunic. He didn’t know she was carrying the rest of the Pearls of Orlov, cramming her coverall pockets full. He could have abandoned her, taken the pearls he had, and gone home to HighTower and no one would have ever known.</p>
<p>But he had not. He had good character, even if he could get moody. Who didn’t get moody, especially when they were tired and damp and had to sleep on the ground, night after night after night. He gave her the tarp and his blanket.</p>
<p>She wished she knew why he had started the fight with Walter. It seemed so out of character for the Fen she was getting to know. One thing she could say was that Walter could fight back so it wasn’t like Fen tackled someone weaker than himself.</p>
<p>Another memory reappeared, of Charlton. She’d only been about ten. He’d argued with her like he always did over who had run faster, but when the thunderstorm they’d ignored blew up over top of them, it had been Charlton who’d gotten her under cover alongside the hedgerow while he got soaked. He’d fussed over how the soaking wet grass was making his feet itch and how the rain beat down, but he had insisted she stay sort of dry and out of the wind. He had never brought it up again either, demanding some favor or other. He never did.</p>
<p>She didn’t like her brother but his character was far better than daddy’s. Yes, Charlton screwed up, sometimes very badly, but he didn’t whine. He tried and tried and did not quit. What was he doing now? Did he ever think of her? Where she was?</p>
<p>She would never know. Lannie chewed on her lip and decided that her brother would care, at least a little.</p>
<p>Fen cared a lot. If he didn’t, he would have abandoned her long ago. He showed how much he cared through his actions, like her brother did and not with grand, lying, empty words like daddy.</p>
<p>Did she still want to ask him about taking her to HighTower after they reached Darnay? Would he care enough to say yes? It would be better not to wait, Lannie decided. If he said no, she would have time to think of something else by the time they reached Darnay and he turned eastward to home. If he said yes now, while he was grumpy and out of sorts, it would be because he meant it and not because it was easy.</p>
<p>“Fen?”</p>
<p>“Lannie?”</p>
<p>They both spoke at the same time and they both laughed. Lannie’s heart leaped. He wanted to talk to her.</p>
<p>“You first,” Fen said.</p>
<p>“I, um,” Lannie stopped, then steeled herself. “I want to go to HighTower with you. Would they let me live there?” The words spilled out in a rush.</p>
<p>Fen thought his heart would burst out of his chest. “Yes,” he gasped out. “I know they would.”</p>
<p>He didn’t have to ask! She wanted to come to HighTower on her own. He wanted to hug her tightly and kiss her and he stopped himself, rather than frighten her.</p>
<p>“I don’t want to go to Northernmost anymore,” Lannie said softly. “I thought and thought and thought and I’d be all alone up there. I wouldn’t know anyone. But in HighTower, I would know you.”</p>
<p>“I would be thrilled to have you come home with me,” Fen managed. He didn’t dare add how much more he wanted. This was enough, for now.</p>
<p>“I know everyone up there would be pleased to have you part of HighTower.” More than pleased. The unmarried Hands and vaqueros would compete for Lannie with her courage and sweetness and fresh genes.</p>
<p>“Those pearls will let me in?” Lannie asked, wanting to be sure.</p>
<p>“You wouldn’t have needed them, Lannie. Just your own sweet self.” He didn’t want to say it but he had to. “There’s plenty of unmarried Hands and vaqueros who would be honored to court you.”</p>
<p>“Really? Why?”</p>
<p>“Because of you. And because we run to boys in the Ennaretee and having someone from outside, like you, means daughters. Fresh genes too. I don’t know if that’s as important in the Equator Zone but it means everything in the Ennaretee.”</p>
<p>Lannie thought of the village on the estate back home. There were peasant families who were barren, no children to carry on their direct line and if there were no collateral relatives, their name would be lost to the cadastre when they passed to the world beyond. Shame washed over her. Charlton would know who they were. So, for that matter would Ulla, and she’d only lived with them for a few months. Mama was oblivious and daddy didn’t care.</p>
<p>“It means everything there too,” she said. Who were Hands? Some kind of highly placed peasant with higher status most likely. She wanted to laugh. She could have become the daimyah of Orlov and now she might become a peasant’s wife. She thought of Rastislav and suppressed a shudder. A peasant was a vast improvement. Fen, who was of importance to the HighTower family, would be even better.</p>
<p>“Would I have a choice?”</p>
<p>“Always. It’s got to be a free decision for both man and woman. Our winters are long and hard and it’s not good to marry someone you don’t like or want to be with.”</p>
<p>Fen’s face fell. “You hear stories sometimes. Bad and sad and we try hard to avoid making people miserable. You get to choose who you want, Lannie. And you will have your pick of men.”</p>
<p>He didn’t say anything about himself, Lannie thought and her heart fell just as swiftly as it had leaped in joy. Fen must already have a sweetheart at home. He didn’t want her that way. He must think of her like a silly younger sister, the way Charlton did.</p>
<p>She didn’t say she liked me, Fen thought and raw pain stabbed through him. She didn’t see him as a man she could love and marry. It would tear him apart to see Lannie choose one of his Hands but it was better than watching her go to Northernmost to die in the snow.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“It’s so good to see you again,” Iolanthe said joyfully.</p>
<p>Ulla had been waiting for them and had made arrangements for porters and baggage carts so nothing needed to be done other than head back to the first-class lounge.</p>
<p>“We need to talk before we head to the townhouse,” Ulla said. “Once we’re there —”</p>
<p>“— I have to talk to Zachery first,” Charlton interrupted. “We’ll fill you in. Is Walter in Barsoom? I need him too.”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” Ulla replied. “I’ve haven’t gone home yet. I waited for you.”</p>
<p>Iolanthe sensed Ulla’s nervousness and noticed a freshly gnawed-on fingernail, contrasting strongly with the other nine. “I would like to sit down in a non-moving chair for a few minutes, if we have time.”</p>
<p>“We’ve got time,” Charlton said. He glanced at Iolanthe and she nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.</p>
<p>Charlton chose a comfortable, more private booth in the first-class lounge rather than a larger table out in the open. He asked Natha to take Susan and Terrence to another table, out of earshot. The servants would know what happened soon enough; servants always did, but for this, he needed privacy.</p>
<p>Once drinks and appetizers had been ordered, he got right to the point.</p>
<p>“Ulla, I know you have plenty to say and so do we, but this can’t wait. Ottilie has been writing to your father, Jorge. I don’t know what she wrote him, but I’ve got a letter for you from your father and another for Ottilie from him. Here.”</p>
<p>He handed over a sealed letter and Ulla made herself take it. She could imagine what Ottilie had written to her father about Silas Avongale, duty, honor, and the betterment of DelFino.</p>
<p>“I don’t know what’s in it. You know your father keeps his own counsel.”</p>
<p>“Yes, he does.”</p>
<p>“He was clear in his instructions. He wanted you to read his letter as soon as humanly possible. That means now,” Charlton said.</p>
<p>Ulla slit open the letter, unwilling but dutiful as always. To her surprise and intense relief, Iolanthe wrapped a consoling arm around her.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to tell us what it says, Ulla,” Iolanthe said.</p>
<p>Jorge’s letter was short and to the point, as his letters always were.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>My dear Ulla,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>1) I was never able to tell your mother how much I cared. Perhaps it would not have made a difference, but I deeply regret my inability to say what she meant to me.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>2) I trust you to do what is right for both yourself and for Silas Avongale. I only ask that you do not mislead him as to your intentions.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>3) Listen to your brain as well as your heart. They can both deceive so do not ignore one in favor of the other.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>4) I will not stop loving you, whatever decision you make.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Your father who loves you more than he can say,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Jorge Panjorin DelFino</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ulla could feel one set of tense anxieties slide away, to be replaced with another. What was the right decision? Her father loved her. He said so right in his letter. She dabbed her eyes and tabled the decision for later. Lannie’s fate mattered more.</p>
<p>“Did you learn more about Lannie’s whereabouts?” she asked. “If not, I’d like to go over my own notes before we go to the townhouse, because after that —"</p>
<p>“Ottilie and Zachery will take over,” Charlton finished up for her. “No, we have nothing new at our end. Show us what you’ve got. We won’t be able to discuss Lannie’s whereabouts again until tomorrow, if then.”</p>
<p>“My last letter from Ottilie implied that she’d be keeping me busy at the Great Hospital,” Iolanthe said with a rueful smile. “Necessary to be sure, but also sure to be uncomfortable and unpleasant.”</p>
<p>“I’ll go with you for all your appointments,” Ulla said. “I know everyone in the Great Hospital’s morgue on a first-name basis so why not get to know everyone in the Obstetrics wing on a first-name basis?”</p>
<p>“Gleesh,” Charlton said, taken aback. “You can start by telling us what you were doing in the morgue.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Night was settling in when they arrived at the DelFino townhouse. Grimaldi must have been hovering near the door, since he opened it as they were climbing the stairs.</p>
<p>“Does Charlton always carry you up flights of stairs?” Ulla whispered to Iolanthe in the entryway after he set her back down.</p>
<p>“If he’s around, yes. I could have managed that flight by myself,” she whispered back. “It just takes me longer than everyone else.”</p>
<p>“The daimyo and Lady Ottilie are waiting in his office, sir,” Grimaldi intoned.</p>
<p>“Is Walter in residence? If he is, I need him there right away, Grimaldi,” Charlton replied.</p>
<p>“He is. I will fetch him, my lord Charlton,” the butler said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Once inside the daimyo’s office, Charlton got Iolanthe settled, bowed to Zachery, then handed Ottilie a letter.</p>
<p>“From Jorge, aunt Ottilie. He wanted you to read it as soon as I arrived.”</p>
<p>“I see,” Ottilie said and pursed her lips in disapproval. She frowned harder when she read what looked to be a very short note.</p>
<p>“Why are we waiting on Walter?” Zachery asked.</p>
<p>“This concerns him immensely, sir, as well as you in both your capacity as the daimyo and as Walter’s father,” Charlton replied. “Jorge is in full agreement, as is my wife, Iolanthe. Ulla knows and agrees. I think you will too.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. They’re serfs, Ulla. Like livestock.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Interesting,” Zachery said. “You have my attention.”</p><p>Grimaldi opened the door to the office, interrupting them. Walter strode in, Naomi drifting after him, swathed in silky pale blue gossamer that did not seem appropriate for anything other than seduction.</p><p>“Grimaldi said you wanted me, Charlton?” Walter asked. “I don’t believe you’ve met my charming bride, Naomi Khan DelFino.”</p><p>“I haven’t. I’m glad she’s here because this concerns her as well,” Charlton said. “Naomi, this is my wife —"</p><p>“— Oooh,” Naomi interrupted. “I’m so pleased to meet you, Charlton.” She fluttered and cooed around a possible new conquest and then, after a moment, she remembered other people were in the room as well.</p><p>“Aren’t you Iolanthe? Cressida’s little friend from that finishing school in Nourz? I think I remember you.” She glanced at Iolanthe’s cane and openly displayed twisted hand and a little flash of disgust showed in her beautiful eyes.</p><p>“Hello, Naomi,” Iolanthe said calmly. Same old Naomi, she thought. “Yes, I am and I should hope you remember me since we met many times at the finishing school until you went home early. You were suddenly taken ill, if I recall correctly. I do hope you suffered no ill effects from your illness?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Naomi replied with a frown and sullenly allowed Walter to seat her across the room from Iolanthe, Ulla, and Ottilie who all had the same blank look on their faces. It was a look Charlton interpreted to mean that they all knew her sudden illness resolved itself months later with a healthy baby discreetly adopted within the Khan family.</p><p>“May I have the floor, my lord daimyo?” Charlton asked formally.</p><p>“You may.”</p><p>“You all know that my line of DelFino holds vast territories in the northeast corner of the northeast quadrant of DelFino. My estates are the only settled territory for hundreds of klicks, yet there is plenty of good land going begging.”</p><p>“This is true,” Zachery said. “However, resources have been scarce.”</p><p>Charlton ignored him.</p><p>“Jorge pointed out that the surveying has already been done and has been waiting for a more forward-thinking daimyo to pursue settling this region. Opening up the northeast quadrant of DelFino would allow lines such as yours and Walter’s to acquire land for their sons and grandsons. The southwest quadrant is almost fully exploited, the northwest and southeast quadrants much less so but they aren’t ignored like we are. We propose that Walter take possession of the northwest corner and that Simeon take the southeast corner. Piers’ family line owns the southwest corner of my quadrant, closest to CITYNAMEHERE but his line shows no signs of expanding outwards. There is more than enough land for me, Walter, and Simeon to each take a full quarter. That land could then be subdivided between our sons and eventual grandsons and maybe to great-grandsons before we run out of viable land. DelFino needs to expand or we’ll lose control of our land to the Martian government. The charter our ancestors signed does permit that possibility.”</p><p>“So it does,” Zachery said. His face had gone completely blank. “However, we are not Shelleen. We do not have a Red Mercury lode in any part of DelFino so we do not need to fear governmental overreach.”</p><p>“We have other minerals. The survey is unclear, but Jorge believes there may be exploitable rare earths,” Charlton said.</p><p>“<em>You</em> own land? Walter doesn’t,” Naomi interrupted, leaning forward and suddenly intensely interested. Iolanthe, sitting quietly on the settee opposite recognized the acquisitive gleam in Naomi’s eyes; a gleam she had seen often enough in Nourz when Naomi wanted something.</p><p>“You are correct,” Charlton said. “My and Iolanthe’s sons will inherit vast tracts of land while Walter’s sons with you will only have what they can earn, working for DelFino.”</p><p>“Walter is very talented,” Naomi said breathily and leaned forward to give everyone in the room a better look at her cleavage. “Oh! Oh my! Zachery! I think I felt a flutter. Your future grandson. We’ve only just married so do forgive me if I’m wrong.” She patted her tummy proudly, beaming joyfully.</p><p>“I’m just so eager for children with Walter.”</p><p>“So soon, Naomi? How wonderful,” Ottilie purred. “You see, Zachery? I foresaw that you would have grandchildren and sooner than you thought possible.”</p><p>Walter smiled thinly at his father. “Naomi and I are well-matched.”</p><p>For their part, Charlton, Iolanthe, and Ulla made approving, noncommittal murmurs.</p><p>“I appreciate your proposal for many reasons. Nonetheless, I do have to ask, Charlton,” Walter added. “Why me? You don’t like me.”</p><p>“No, I don’t. But you’re the most capable member of DelFino who doesn’t hold land and the most likely man to succeed. I’ve seen what you can do when you were working with me on my estates,” Charlton said.</p><p>“As for Simeon, Jorge feels he is the second most-likely person to succeed. It’s a huge undertaking so we want DelFino men who are fully qualified. We also believe that you’re the best choice for the northwest corner because it will be harder to tame. Simeon should take the southeast corner because he is not as well-trained as you are and it should be easier to homestead.”</p><p>“Oh, Walter,” Naomi cooed. She snuggled closer, stroking his arm and gazing at him adoringly. “Land of our own. For our sons.”</p><p>“A lot of work, my darling,” he said.</p><p>“Naomi,” Iolanthe said. “You should know that the northeast quadrant of DelFino is isolated, empty, and poor. It won’t make you rich anytime soon.”</p><p>Ulla chimed in, “But this is the only way Walter will ever hold land of his own for his sons with you. What, by the way, were you planning to do for the betterment of DelFino, Walter? Have you made a decision about a job yet? Bookkeeping is always looking for people.”</p><p>“No, I haven’t.” Walter glanced sideways at Naomi; his expression unreadable. “This is very tempting. Dad? What would the council say?” he asked.</p><p>“Money and population are always a problem. If we had money and population, we would have already begun colonizing that region,” Zachery replied. His face remained expressionless, giving nothing away.</p><p>“I do have my dowry,” Naomi said and fluttered her eyelashes at the daimyo. She patted her stomach again. “If I ask, I’m sure Khan will provide some serfs to get us started.”</p><p>“You would uproot serfs from Khan and transport them all the way to DelFino? They could never go home again,” Ulla said, disconcerted.</p><p>“They’re serfs, Ulla. Like livestock,” Naomi said, not bothering to waste charm on an already openly disliked sister-in-law who was going to be marrying out and so did not matter. “We won’t break up family units. But it would ensure Walter and I have a better start on our happy life together and ensure our sons each inherit an estate. Oh, Walter.”</p><p>She stroked his opposite shoulder and snuggled closer to him to the point where she was almost, but not quite sitting in his lap.</p><p>“I’m sure my family will agree. Just think, an estate of our own with serfs trained and ready to work the land. Khan has plenty and can spare quite a few families for me.”</p><p>“I will think on it,” Zachery said. “We’ll discuss it further in the morning. I want to be clear in what I propose to the DelFino council. By the time the Winter Solstice arrives, I could have a plan ready to propose to the larger family, if this proves viable. In the meantime, Ottilie, you wished to speak with Iolanthe?”</p><p>“Yes, I did,” Ottilie replied. “Iolanthe, we have a full day tomorrow at the Great Hospital. While we’re there, Charlton can work out more details of his plan with Walter and Zachery. I’m sure Simeon would agree to participate.” She paused, focusing her gimlet gaze on the opposite settee. “Naomi, you will come with us, since you might possibly be carrying the daimyo’s grandchild. I want to make sure you’re in tiptop condition.”</p><hr/><p>Charlton kissed Iolanthe again. “You and Ulla were absolutely right. Naomi jumped for the bait and with Khan providing manpower as well as her dowry, DelFino can begin colonizing those lands.”</p><p>She smiled up at him. They were back in the bedchamber they had first shared when they had married weeks ago at the justice of the peace in the Barsoom courthouse. The big bed was far more comfortable and pleasant compared to the cramped train compartment and they had taken full advantage of its spaciousness. Charlton’s massage of her aching leg and hip had been most welcome and ended as it always did: in great pleasure for both of them.</p><p>“Naomi expects the best and she’s a favored daughter of Khan. Ulla informing Naomi of the reality of Walter never amounting to more than another employee in DelFino gives her plenty of incentive. Khan rushed her into that marriage to Walter and I’m sure she’s already pregnant or she would have refused him. She’s ambitious and greedy and she won’t want her children to be considered second-tier or worse, be second-tier herself.”</p><p>“Who’s the father of this baby?” Charlton asked.</p><p>“I doubt we’ll ever know,” Iolanthe replied. “To save face, we will all insist it must be Walter’s child. Speaking of which, you will have to live and work with him closely.”</p><p>“Not that closely. His lands will be well to the west. He’ll be even busier than I am colonizing raw land. But we have to have more settlers in our quadrant. We’re too isolated. We come last in every program DelFino has. With more people, more agriculture, more money being generated, we’ll be better able to take care of our people.”</p><p>“Will Zachery listen?”</p><p>“If we make a good enough case that he can use,” Charlton said thoughtfully. “He won’t be daimyo forever. He’s very good at considering the long-term and opening up the northeast quadrant of DelFino would make sure he’s remembered forever as an outstanding leader. Even better, it would give his direct line land, something they’ve never had before.”</p><p>“Will the DelFino council agree?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Charlton said. “We may only get approval for Walter since he’ll have the promise of serfs from Khan and Simeon won’t. You were right about that too. I still can’t believe Khan would ship people a thousand klicks away from home, never to return, but Naomi didn’t hesitate to offer them up.”</p><p>“Her attitude is exactly what I would expect of her and Khan,” Iolanthe said. “And Orlov, I am sorry to say, would do the same if they chose to work with another demesne. They don’t see peasants as people, like you do.”</p><p>Charlton slumped back on the bed. “I have to do this to save my own people. I have to use those serfs from Khan and it feels like selling Lannie to the sot.” He groaned. “Look how well that turned out.”</p><p>“This plan will work better, my dearest,” Iolanthe said and ran her fingertips across Charlton’s broad, bare chest, ruffling his thick chest hair. Tracing the lines of his body was endlessly fascinating.</p><p>He grinned at her. “Because you planned it.”</p><p>She giggled. “That’s one reason. But keep in mind, you may be doing those serfs from Khan a favor. Even if they end up belonging to Walter, they’ll be out of Khan. DelFino seems much more enlightened in the treatment of serfs.”</p><p>“Peasants, my darling. We have peasants with lives of their own.”</p><p>“I stand corrected. And we will find Lannie. We know she was alive to mail you the earrings from Merreth.”</p><p>“True. You sure you don’t want me to come with you to the Great Hospital tomorrow? Protect you from Naomi?”</p><p>Iolanthe groaned. “I’ll have Ulla, thank all my ancestors. And, dare I say, Ottilie. I sent a message to Dimitri. We’ve got Naomi outnumbered. You need to sell Zachery on the plan.”</p><p>“Already done,” Charlton replied confidently. “I saw his face in the mirror when we left his office and he thought no one was looking. The hard part is proving to him that our plan will work so he doesn’t look like a fool when he presents it to the council. He’ll probably have to hand out raw land to other landless DelFino lines to get agreement from the council and it will take a decade or more for everyone other than Walter to get started, but he’ll push hard for this proposal. Then he and his wife can retire to Walter’s new manor house and play with all the grandchildren Naomi produces.”</p><p>“Would this get Zachery reelected as daimyo at the Winter Solstice?” she asked.</p><p>“It won’t hurt. He’ll get up-votes from everyone who wants a crack at land of their own.” He went silent, pensively staring across the room towards the open window facing to the north. “I wonder what Lannie would say, knowing that I’m safeguarding the future of my peasants and their descendants but I couldn’t save her.”</p><p>“Stop,” Iolanthe said firmly. “No one could have anticipated that Lannie would steal the Pearls of Orlov and run away. I finally realized that if she had remained in the chapel, she would not have married the sot. You, me, Ulla, and Dimitri would have stopped that travesty of a wedding. Even Zachery and Walter agreed, especially after Ulla’s speech about your father. Only your father and the sot wanted the wedding and they no longer had power over your mother or me.”</p><p>“You are so smart,” Charlton whispered into her ear. “Let’s talk about what I’m doing right.” He kissed the side of her neck making her shiver in anticipation.</p><hr/><p>The morning’s appointment at the Great Hospital Obstetrics ward was exactly as intrusive and embarrassing as Iolanthe had feared. It also ended much as she had anticipated. The Great Hospital doctors, with much hemming and hawing, very tentatively agreed with the diagnosis of her own doctor in Nourz. The possibility existed that she could safely bear and give birth to a child, or at least as safely as any other woman. More days of tests and examinations were required to make a definitive diagnosis but she had won this point.</p><p>Nonetheless, Lady Ottilie had the last say as they lingered in the waiting room, waiting for Naomi to finish her examination. Mysteriously, the young, handsome male doctor was taking longer than would be expected with his patient.</p><p>“I still insist you come to DelFino Castle to deliver your children, Iolanthe,” Ottilie said. She pursed her lips in open disapproval at the doctor’s cautiously worded initial report in her hand. “An ignorant village midwife out in the middle of nowhere is not going to be able to handle a crisis and you are the wife of the sole heir to those estates. You must bear at least one son for Charlton’s line to keep control of that land.”</p><p>“Yes, Lady Ottilie,” Iolanthe agreed. “Do you suppose you could ask the daimyo to provide additional training for our village’s midwife? Just in case I am not able to travel quickly enough? I shouldn’t want to keep Charlton from having an heir.”</p><p>“An excellent idea,” Ulla chimed in. “In fact, you should recommend to the daimyo that all the midwives in all the villages of DelFino get additional training. Think of the lives that could be saved and all because the daimyo will listen to you.”</p><p>“If only that were true,” Ottilie said dryly. “Ah, and here is dear Naomi, finished with her examination at last. How did it go, my dear?”</p><p>“Fine,” Naomi said. “It looks like I was right last night.” She smiled coyly. “If all goes well, I should be presenting Walter with his first child although I may deliver a touch early. Early babies do run in the Khan family, you know. They’re so eager to be born.”</p><p>“Of course,” Ottilie said, more purse-lipped than ever.</p><p>“I’ve heard that is true,” Iolanthe said blandly.</p><p>“Whatever you say, Naomi,” Ulla finished up, trying hard to not look skeptical.</p><p>“Really? How early is an early baby? A month? Two months perhaps? Three?” Dimitri interrupted them as he strode into the waiting room.</p><p>“Dimitri, you got my message!” Iolanthe said joyfully. She lurched to her feet and hugged her brother tightly while Naomi glared and Ottilie and Ulla did their best to pretend they hadn’t heard his insinuations.</p><p>“Yes, Matsuda made sure I left on time. Papa and Uncle Ljubo send their love. They had to return to Orlov last week,” Dimitri said. “Otherwise they would have come with me.”</p><p>Iolanthe leaned against her brother. She’d missed him terribly. “Everyone in Orlov writes regularly but letters are not the same.”</p><p>“No, they’re not. Charlton taking good care of you, I hope?”</p><p>“You know he is. He’s proposing a wonderful plan to settle our empty quadrant of DelFino and dear Naomi will help us!” Iolanthe said.</p><p>Dimitri turned to Naomi and gave her an openly appreciative looking over, always easy to do with the most beautiful woman on Mars.</p><p>“How are you helping, Naomi?” He winked at her. “Anything I can help you with?”</p><p>She preened under a man’s admiring gaze, making Iolanthe, Ulla, Ottilie, and the nurses at the desk who had had to deal with Naomi roll their eyes. Not that Naomi noticed, since she only had eyes for Dimitri.</p><p>“I have a wonderful dowry from Khan. Money, resources, even families of serfs. It’s not like what Orlov gave to poor Iolanthe,” she cooed.</p><p>“Very nice of them,” Dimitri replied. “You aren’t wearing a veil, Naomi.”</p><p>Naomi glanced over at Iolanthe who was wearing hers and had since they’d left the townhouse in the morning.</p><p>“It’s so provincial and it’s not like I need to cover my face.” She glanced at Iolanthe again, then gazed into Dimitri’s eyes. “We are among friends, after all.”</p><p>“This is true,” Iolanthe said dryly. “Why don’t we continue our discussion over lunch?”</p><p>“Excellent idea,” Ulla said promptly. “Dimitri. You can tell me what John RedHawk found out about Lannie while I was in Avongale. I haven’t had the time to stop by Mr. Parminder’s office or the police department.</p><p>They’re all grateful you didn’t, Dimitri thought. Mr. Parminder had mentioned twice how restful it was when the harpy went to Avongale and could my lord Dimitri keep her there?</p><p>“I do have news about Lannie,” Dimitri said but he refused to be drawn out, choosing instead to flirt with Naomi while the group made their way from the Great Hospital’s Obstetrics ward to the café. Even when he assisted Iolanthe with staircases, he refused to say another word to his sister about Lannie. Anything else she wanted to discuss was open, but not Lannie. He wasn’t ready yet.</p><hr/><p>Once settled into their private table in the corner, Iolanthe pointed her table knife at her brother’s heart.</p><p>“Out with it, Dimitri. What did you learn about Lannie?”</p><p>“Yeah. Details, Dimitri. Right now,” Ulla added. She aimed her own table knife at Dimitri and regretted not packing her letter opener in her bag. It, at least, had an edge.</p><p>“Must we talk about Lannie?” Naomi asked, fluttering her eyelashes at Dimitri like a butterfly caught in a gale. “We could be discussing what Khan will do for DelFino.”</p><p>“An interesting topic to be sure, particularly the involuntary resettling of Khan serfs,” Ottilie said and gave her reptilian smile to Naomi. “How happy they will be when they learn their fate. However, Lannie is DelFino so I want to know if I will ever see her again. Or should we discuss how often Khan babies are born early? You decide, dear Naomi.”</p><p>Naomi sat back in her seat and pouted, “Lannie.”</p><p>“Very good choice, Naomi,” Ottilie said. “You may begin, Dimitri.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t we order first and wait until after the food arrives?” he asked.</p><p>“No,” Ottilie commanded.</p><p>“What happened to my sister-in-law?” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“Why are you wasting my time like this? Are you dim, Dimitri?” Ulla asked. “Or are you deliberately being difficult?”</p><p>“I’d like to order first,” Naomi said breathily. “I’m eating for two, even if it’s very early days.”</p><p>“Too much lunch will go straight to your waistline, Naomi dear,” Ottilie purred. “That’s always the first thing to go, quickly followed by one’s bosom sagging.”</p><p>Dimitri broke the angry silence, deciding he’d teased his sister enough.</p><p>“John RedHawk received news from one of his stringers in Merreth. A teenage male was reported in Weer trying to sell two pea-sized stolen pearls, which is of course completely ridiculous. The pawnbroker must have mistaken fake pearls for real ones. RedHawk went to Weer because the male was accompanied by a skinny teenaged girl wearing a man’s coverall ten sizes too big. She also desperately needed boots that fit.”</p><p>Iolanthe and Ulla exchanged glances.</p><p>“Gracious. I’m sure you are correct about the pearls being fake,” Iolanthe said. “So many of them are because real pearls are so rare and valuable.”</p><p>“Very true,” Ulla added dutifully. Neither Ottilie nor Naomi knew about Lannie stealing the Pearls of Orlov and she wasn’t going to tell. “A pawnbroker in some little town out in the middle of nowhere would never see a real pearl and so be unable to recognize one.”</p><p>“Interesting,” Ottilie said with a raised eyebrow. Something was up. “Weer is north of Merreth, I believe. If that was Lannie, then she must be heading to Ranaglia as we surmised.”</p><p>“May I take your orders, please?” the waitress asked, interrupting the conversation.</p><p>Orders were placed in record time for whatever was fastest to prepare. The waitress scurried away, wondering why a pack of ristos were being so easy to take care of and what it meant for her tip.</p><p>Naomi was first out of the starting gate, not giving the waitress enough time to move out of earshot of family dirty laundry.</p><p>“You mean your sister-in-law took up with some low-caste street person, Iolanthe?” she asked. “How vulgar and tacky. It is so sad for you and Charlton that Lannie didn’t understand the great honor being given to her by the daimyo of Orlov.”</p><p>“Yes, sad,” Iolanthe said, wanting to smack Naomi with her cane.</p><p>“It was a terrible situation,” Ulla said, wishing Naomi was seated properly so she could kick her under the table. She did not want to kick Iolanthe by mistake and the two of them were seated just close enough that there was some risk.</p><p>“We would have welcomed Lannie to Orlov,” Dimitri said, seizing his opportunity to let his eyes linger on Naomi’s bountiful cleavage instead of the table’s much less interesting centerpiece.</p><p>“I could have told Zachery it was a bad idea for Yilanda to wed Rastislav but he doesn’t listen to me,” Ottilie finished up. “You, dear Naomi, would have become a superior daimyah. I’m sure you would have presented the daimyo of Orlov with an army of sons.” She smiled her reptilian smile. “But Walter, despite his lack of land and indifferent prospects, is far younger and more virile than Rastislav.”</p><p>“Walter’s prospects are indifferent?” Naomi asked, suddenly anxious again.</p><p>“Truthfully, his prospects are worse than anyone else’s who doesn’t hold land in DelFino,” Ulla said. She gave Naomi a smug smile. “He’ll never become the daimyo, despite his qualifications because his father is the daimyo. We don’t elect sons of daimyos to that position. We always wait two generations between members of the same direct line. It’s bookkeeping or worse.”</p><p>“Ulla is more accurate than I was. Walter’s prospects are poor if he doesn’t homestead new land out in the back of beyond,” Ottilie said. “But you will encourage him, dear Naomi. With your assistance and the dowry you bring from Khan, our Walter will become one of the great landowners in DelFino.”</p><p>“I want to hear more about Lannie,” Iolanthe said quickly, not wanting Naomi to hijack the conversation back to herself despite how important it was to keep Naomi persuaded about homesteading raw land. “Does RedHawk expect to find her?”</p><p>“He will try,” Dimitri said. “We don’t know what Lannie was wearing after she discarded that ballgown but it’s feasible that she found a man’s coverall inside that chapel closet. If there were boots in the same closet, they wouldn’t have fit her. The report said the girl’s feet were healing from terrible, crippling blisters.”</p><p>“Was that the hideous ballgown Ulla’s got hanging in the morning room?” Naomi asked. “Walter told me Ulla had a copy made and I have never seen such a dreadful dress. So vulgar and tacky.”</p><p>“It could be Lannie,” Ulla said, ignoring Naomi. “I must leave for Weer at once.”</p><p>“No, Ulla, you may not,” Ottilie snapped. “I assume this sighting is days old?”</p><p>“Yes, Lady Ottilie, it is,” Dimitri said. “RedHawk will return within a few days and report in.”</p><p>“I would guess, Ulla,” Iolanthe said thoughtfully, “that if that was Lannie, she’s long gone from Weer. It’s her companion that interests me. Was there a description?”</p><p>“Long hair in a braid hanging down to his ass, wool clothes, and a scruffy teenaged boy’s beard,” Dimitri said.</p><p>“Oh,” Iolanthe said, sitting back. Where had she heard that odd detail before?</p><p>“Really?” Ulla said. Hadn’t Walter, or was it Charlton, who’d said something about a braid a long time ago?</p><p>They glanced at each other, doing their best to communicate without words that would alert Naomi or more importantly, Dimitri who seemed oblivious to identifying details.</p><p>“Um, Iolanthe. Would you and Charlton like to do some sightseeing this afternoon? With me? You’ve never been able to before,” Ulla said.</p><p>“She cannot,” Ottilie said. “She has appointments.”</p><p>“They can be rescheduled,” Ulla argued.</p><p>“I would adore sightseeing in Barsoom this afternoon,” Iolanthe said quickly. “I’ll be happy to see any doctors you want me to see without a word of complaint if I can. I’ll even see doctors with Naomi, if that would make her more comfortable.”</p><p>“I don’t need your help to see a doctor,” Naomi said.</p><p>“How prompt,” Ottilie said. “Our order has arrived.”</p><p>“I can come along when you go sightseeing,” Dimitri said.</p><p>Ulla thought fast. What could dissuade Dimitri that he wouldn’t immediately interpret as a clumsy lie? Then she remembered what she’d tried the awful day when Lannie was to be married. Maybe this time it would work.</p><p>“I want to take Iolanthe trousseau shopping,” Ulla announced. “She never had a chance before. It’s girl things. You’d be bored to tears when you’re not carrying shopping bags.”</p><p>She was missing something. If this was an important clue, it gave her and Iolanthe a chance to rescue Lannie without Dimitri interfering in his efforts to rescue the Pearls. He'd sacrifice Lannie in a heartbeat if he had to. Disturbingly, she was starting to believe Dimitri would punish Lannie even if she handed over the Pearls without protest.</p><p>“I’d love to go shopping!” Naomi squealed. “It’s my favorite thing to do. All my clothes are so provincial and I need a new trousseau too. Walter promised he’d dress me in couture.”</p><p>“Did he now,” Ottilie said, radiating disapproval. “I do not believe Walter can afford to keep you in fine fripperies if he’s going to be settling thousands of hectares of raw land. That takes precedence over your wardrobe. Unless you want Walter and by extension, you, to remain third-tier.”</p><p>Naomi pouted and settled back in her seat.</p><p>“In any case, the discussion is moot. You both have appointments and I went to a great deal of trouble to get them so I am not rescheduling,” Ottilie said. “Tomorrow afternoon, however, is free.”</p><p>“Damnation,” Dimitri said, looking annoyed. “I’ll be busy and I won’t be able to cancel.”</p><p>“That’s quite all right,” Iolanthe said and Ulla nodded. “Come by that evening for dinner and we’ll show you what we bought.”</p><hr/><p>“We have to talk to Charlton,” Iolanthe whispered to Ulla in the carriage ride back to the DelFino townhouse at the end of an excruciating day of medical examinations. They were riding past Montaine’s department store and Naomi was fussing at Ottilie about stopping to shop for just a few minutes as a reward for spending the day being poked and prodded.</p><p>“Yes. Dimitri said something important at lunch about the teenaged boy with the girl in the man’s coverall. I’m sure of it,” Ulla whispered back. “But I can’t remember why.”</p><p>“Same here. I hope Charlton remembers because I don’t think Dimitri does.”</p><p>“Your brother can be dim sometimes.”</p><p>“Unfortunately, yes. It’s why I did the planning in the family,” Iolanthe whispered back. “Keep in mind he’s been under enormous stress, keeping the sot from making things worse.”</p><p>“That didn’t stop him from flirting with Naomi,” Ulla whispered.</p><p>“I know. It was embarrassing but he’s had Naomi in his sights for a long time and —"</p><p>“— Ulla, Iolanthe,” Ottilie’s voice snapped out. “Stop being rude and share your conversation with the rest of us.”</p><p>Iolanthe smiled gracefully. “Ulla was just telling me how much she hoped we would stop at Montaine’s.”</p><p>“I was? Oh! I was,” Ulla said. “Iolanthe and Naomi have never been there.”</p><p>“Yes, I have,” Naomi shot back. “I’ve been to Barsoom many times even if dear Iolanthe was never allowed past Nourz because of being crippled.” She cast a smug glance at Iolanthe’s cane.</p><p>“Really,” Ottilie said coldly and looked down her nose at Naomi once again. “In that case, yes, we will certainly stop. Remember that none of you can afford more than a scarf, or in Ulla’s case, a pair of proper gloves. A new trousseau is out of the question.”</p><hr/><p>Back in the library at the Orlov townhouse, Dimitri poured himself a single small glass of wine and thought over his day’s work carefully. It had been a genuine pleasure to see Iolanthe again. His sister looked <em>happy</em>, despite being poked and prodded by doctors, something she normally hated and avoided. She had seen too many of them since the sot had hurt her so badly all those years ago when he’d murdered their mother and their unborn brother.</p><p>Ulla had been her usual pushy, annoying self, but she obviously cared about Iolanthe. It was good that his sister already had a close friend in the DelFino family. Watching them whisper and giggle together had been heartwarming. Too many of Iolanthe’s friends were penpals and far away.</p><p>Meeting Naomi had been very enjoyable and useful. The rumors were true. She’d be easy to seduce. He wouldn’t have to expend much effort and he’d finally taste her sweetness. It was a consideration that she was Charlton’s sister-in-law because of her marriage to Walter DelFino so he gave it more thought. Yes, he would pursue Naomi, not that she’d be hard to catch. He’d seen with his own eyes how rude and dismissive Naomi had been to his sister. Naomi’s beauty, while spectacular, was only skin-deep. Charlton, according to Iolanthe’s letters, knew the rumors because she had told him, as had Ulla and Lady Ottilie. His best friend didn’t like Naomi and would not care.</p><p>Lady Ottilie, who was even more of a harpy than Ulla was, didn’t like Naomi either. Nor did Ottilie believe a word that fell from Naomi’s beautiful, lying lips. She wouldn’t lift a finger to protect the reputation of DelFino’s newest bride, unlike her concern for Iolanthe. It was readily apparent, even if Iolanthe didn’t agree. Ottilie could have easily ignored Iolanthe’s possible health issues of birthing a baby safely. If Charlton was left a widower, he could remarry and father other children. Any matchmaker would see the possibilities, particularly as his own fertility would be proven.</p><p>According to what he’d been told, Walter knew what he was getting and he’d married Naomi anyway for the betterment of DelFino. Dimitri could understand that impulse. It was why he hadn’t stuck a poisoned knife into the sot. Despite the increasing pressure, it wasn’t time. Not yet. Too many other things home in Orlov had to be set in motion first.</p><p>It had been lucky that the sot had ranted and raved in a drunken fury in the Conclave in front of virtually every daimyo in the Four Hundred. Everyone in the Four Hundred already suspected he was insane and would not question his death, but it was better if it took place at home, in Orlov. The rotted ham had been correct that day in the library when he’d tried to strangle the sot. Too many questions would be asked in Barsoom and not just by the police. However, if the sot publicly drank himself to death as he was once again trying to do, no one would say much. Either way, his death would help Orlov immensely.</p><p>Dimitri shook himself and took a sip of wine, wiping the sot from his brain in favor of something far sweeter. Naomi’s image rose before his eyes once more, filling his imagination and his blood with lust. She would be delicious and easy and if he found the time, well, she was already carrying a passenger so Walter couldn’t carp too much about being cuckolded. Besides, he didn’t like Walter: the pushy, would-be rapist of housemaids and other girls who had no protection.</p><p>Girls, for example, who worked in livery stables.</p><p>Dimitri smiled to himself. He loved Iolanthe dearly, but she had a tendency to underestimate him and flirting with Naomi made sure she did so again. The harpy, Ulla, was the same. They both thought he couldn’t use his brain and didn’t recognize the importance of the teenaged male accompanying the girl in the baggy man’s coverall, ten sizes too big. The one who’d been seen in Weer trying to sell stolen pearls. There was a good chance the teenager was the young stablehand who’d caught Walter trying to rape the owner’s daughter and was beating him into pulp until he and Charlton intervened.</p><p>Iolanthe, Charlton, and Ulla would do the legwork for him. That livery stable owner would not speak to <em>him</em>. Or more likely, the livery stable owner would lie to protect the man who had protected his daughter. But the livery stable owner would talk to Charlton and Iolanthe because Lannie was Charlton’s missing sister. Then Iolanthe would tell him who the savage stablehand was; the one with the scruffy beard and the ridiculous braid hanging down to his ass. With a full name, Dimitri could pass the information onto Parminder Investigations and John RedHawk and finally see some results from all the Orlov coin he was spending.</p><p>Dimitri smiled coldly at the portrait of Madame Orlov looming over him. His fingers tightened on the stem of the wineglass, threatening to snap it. If he was correct in his surmise, Lannie had run down the alley, discarding the ballgown on the way, and into the livery stable. She must have told the young stablehand some story and he’d decided to rescue another damsel in distress, as he had rescued the livery stable owner’s daughter.</p><p>Best of all, Lannie still had the Pearls of Orlov. The stablehand, whoever he was, must have not known the two pearls Lannie gave him to sell were real. Nor did he know that Lannie had the rest of the Pearls or she would be lying dead in some ditch along the Pole-To-Pole Road. As long as the stablehand didn’t know, there was hope for Orlov.</p><p>He lifted his glass to Madame Orlov. Her painted eyes were filled with cold disdain and her lip curled in its usual sneer.</p><p>“I will rescue the Pearls of Orlov but not for you, you vicious old harridan. I will rescue the Pearls to save my demesne, my family, my lands, and my serfs. I swear this on my name, Dimitri Deengar Orlov, so get the hellation out of my dreams.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. You’re wrong about that, sweetie. You got two boyfriends. Us.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was very late when they finally arrived back at the DelFino townhouse. Naomi had somehow managed to get lost in Montaine’s and she didn’t turn up in any of the departments as they were each searched in turn.</p><p>“That stupid girl,” Ottilie fumed while they waited outside the third-floor dressing rooms for Naomi, finally located, to emerge. She was coldly furious. “Does she think I don’t know what she’s doing? Deliberately hiding from me so she can try on clothes she can’t afford while flirting with stockboys?”</p><p>“She doesn’t care what you think, Lady Ottilie,” Iolanthe said, deeply grateful to be sitting down in one of Montaine’s plush chairs and wishing Naomi had chosen the first-floor dressing rooms to hide in. “She’s always been like this. The stories I could tell from when we were both at the finishing school in Nourz!”</p><p>Damn Naomi, she thought. I’ll feel those stairs for days and thank all my ancestors that Mr. Montaine arranged help for me to climb them. And descend them now that we’ve finally located that selfish bint. She surreptitiously massaged her aching hip, hoping no one would notice.</p><p>“I expect to hear them all over the next few days, Iolanthe,” Ottilie said and pursed her lips in a tiny smile. “We’ll certainly have enough time in between examinations.” Her eyes drifted casually to Iolanthe’s drawn face and awkward posture in the chair but she chose not to say anything since Iolanthe was not complaining.</p><p>Iolanthe made a face. “Yes, Lady Ottilie,” she said dutifully and began mentally organizing her store of Naomi Khan stories in order of increasing salaciousness. There was no point in starting with the best ones. Besides, Ottilie deserved to hear every detail after this stunt from Naomi.</p><p>“I want to hear them too,” Ulla said. “I can update Elise Choudhury in case she doesn’t know any of them.”</p><p>“You have to tell me what Elise Choudhury said in return,” Iolanthe replied as the double doors to the palatial dressing rooms finally opened. “Oh! There you are, Naomi. We were just talking about your fashion choices. Did you find something you like?”</p><p>“You mean someone,” Lady Ottilie said sotto voce, permitting Iolanthe and Ulla to genuinely smile at Naomi.</p><hr/><p>Back at the townhouse entry hall, Grimaldi was waiting with a letter for Ulla on a silver tray.</p><p>“Miss Ulla,” he said and bowed. “This was mailed to you at DelFino Castle and only recently forwarded. It arrived today. I thought you would want to see it at once rather than wait until after dinner.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you,” Ulla said and took the letter and gasped when she saw the name and address on the envelope. Jennet Quispe, the postal clerk, had written. So that was her family name. She ducked into the morning room to read it hastily.</p><p>“You’re back!” Charlton said and ran across the entry hall to snatch up Iolanthe and kiss her soundly. Walter and Zachery waited behind him, Zachery looking on with a raised eyebrow. Wistfulness flashed across Walter’s face before he forced out a smile to Naomi and he led her from the hallway upstairs, asking her about how her appointments went.</p><p>“We have not been gone that long,” Ottilie said disapprovingly.</p><p>Charlton gave her a look. “It’s been hours.”</p><p>“Even so.”</p><p>“My darling,” Iolanthe said. “We saw Dimitri. We need to speak as soon as we have a private moment.”</p><p>“That will come after dinner, Iolanthe,” Ottilie commanded. “By the way, we dress for dinner in Barsoom so I suggest you change. Charlton, find that valet of yours and have him shave you again. You look as disreputable as some labor-caste on a three-day bender.”</p><p>“I’ve been busy with the daimyo and Walter,” Charlton said. “We’ve been working on how to settle my quadrant most effectively.</p><p>“Very good, Charlton. You made yourself useful to the demesne. Go dress for dinner and do not keep the rest of us waiting any longer,” Ottilie snapped. “I see Walter has already run off. I need to speak to him about his new bride’s behavior in public and her complete lack of consideration for the needs of other members of DelFino.”</p><hr/><p>“How close are we to Eljinn?” Lannie asked. “I mean days. I saw the waystation map but that says distance and not time.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Fen said, giving it careful thought. Lannie’s feet were healing up nicely, but she still had too much tenderness. He walked while she rode Coppertail. They rode pillion for an hour or so every day which was faster but they still had to walk most of the time. A daylong trot, carrying both of them, was too taxing for his gelding, especially with the endless journey ahead of them up the corridor to Darnay and then the long journey east to HighTower. He didn’t dare risk injury to Coppertail. He glanced over at his gelding’s front legs. Had Coppertail started favoring one leg?</p><p>If there was a chance of injury, they had to slow down still more.</p><p>The answer was unavoidable. He had to risk stopping in Eljinn, selling some more pearls, and buy another horse for Lannie. It was a risk, too. At the last waystation, he’d spotted a flier from the sheriff of Weer looking for a bearded teenaged boy with a long braid selling stolen pearls and carefully torn it down when no one was looking. This journey was taking too damn long. At this rate, they wouldn’t get home until fall. Martian seasons were long but winter always came eventually and then it lasted forever. He could risk traveling in bad weather, but Lannie could not. If they reached the Ennaretee, though. He could expect guest rights. Lannie, however, would be pursued and courted if there was even the slightest hope she could be persuaded to stay. And maybe even if she didn’t want to stay and then he’d just disappear into the steppes, not able to prevent her forced marriage.</p><p>It was unlikely, but not impossible. It depended on the demesne.</p><p>“You know, Fen,” Lannie said, interrupting his thoughts. “I could walk while you ride.”</p><p>“You’re not as fast as I am.”</p><p>“That’s true but it would give your feet a rest.”</p><p>“They’ll be fine.”</p><p>“I’m thinking a lot more about feet since I tore mine up and I think we should trade places.”</p><p>“No,” Fen said. “I am not riding while you walk.”</p><p>“Why not?” Lannie asked, intrigued by the open disapproval of her proposal in his voice. Fen was normally ready to discuss virtually everything but clearly not this.</p><p>“Because a man in the Ennaretee does not ride while a woman walks, that’s why,” Fen replied. “It’s not fitting.”</p><p>“What if you were injured?”</p><p>“I’d walk.”</p><p>“With a broken leg?” Lannie said and laughed.</p><p>“That’s what crutches are for,” Fen said stoutly. He didn’t think the pleasure of hearing Lannie laugh would ever fade.</p><p>“And if you were unconscious and I got you up on top of Coppertail? What then?” she demanded.</p><p>“I’d wake up.”</p><p>“Sure you would.”</p><p>“Besides which, you probably couldn’t lift me up onto Coppertail by yourself anyway, so I’m safe.”</p><p>“I would get help,” Lannie argued. “You’d be tied to the saddle.”</p><p>“I would wake up and untie myself,” he insisted. “It’s not fitting.”</p><p>“Well, what if you were dead?” Lannie asked. “You couldn’t wake up from that.”</p><p>He looked up at her and said, very seriously, “I would come back from the grave rather than ride while you walked so be prepared to see me if you try that stunt.” Then he grinned and she laughed again.</p><p>“Maybe I wouldn’t come back from the grave,” he conceded. “But anything else? I will never shame myself by riding when you’re walking so we’ll get you a horse in Eljinn and save us both the trouble.”</p><p>“Would getting a horse for me improve the weather?” More rain was threatening; fat dark clouds waiting to burst.</p><p>“Probably not. Lannie, you’re from the equator. Does it always rain like this? I have never seen this much rain, for days on end. We get rain but not like this.”</p><p>“It’s the rainy season,” Lannie replied. “It’ll stop as summer comes on and then just cloudbursts instead of all-day rain and then it gets drier.” She felt proud of herself for remembering. She wondered if Charlton would know and then decided he might. He would have learned it from the peasants, even if he didn’t learn it at one of the schools he flunked out of. He certainly wouldn’t have learned from daddy, who was completely disinterested in the peasants who grew the crops that her family sold to keep their estates going.</p><p>“You have a rainy season?”</p><p>“We don’t have winter so it stands to reason we would have some kind of season. How else could we tell the passage of time if the weather didn’t change?”</p><p>“It doesn’t snow?” Fen asked, struck by the astonishing possibility. He had been told it didn’t snow at the equator but even so, the thought of not seeing the land thickly blanketed with snow for months on end was strange.</p><p>“Never,” Lannie said wistfully. “I’ve seen snow. We went to Ranaglia sometimes for the Winter Solstice and it was so beautiful.”</p><p>“DelFino goes to Ranaglia?” He knew where Ranaglia lay. The demesne, an agricultural one, was on the western side of the Pole-To-Pole Corridor. Its northern boundary was the 40° Latitude Corridor, marking the division between the Ennagzee and the Ennaretee.</p><p>“That’s awfully far and why would they bring you along? I could see the DelFino family might visit relatives, but they wouldn’t care about what a servant would want.”</p><p>“Uh,” Lannie said, thinking fast. “Lady Constance, I’ve talked about her? My, um, mistress?”</p><p>“Yeah, the one having to host the harpy, Ulla DelFino. You really care about Lady Constance.”</p><p>“Yes,” Lannie said, her face suddenly sad. “I do. She’s from Ranaglia and she liked to visit in the winter to see the snow and she would bring me along.”</p><p>Fen watched her expressive face. “When we get to HighTower and you’re protected from DelFino, you can write to Lady Constance and let her know you’re okay. Along with your mother and brother.”</p><p>“DelFino can’t influence HighTower?” Lannie asked carefully. “They’re awfully powerful.”</p><p>“Not in the Ennaretee, they’re not. We don’t care what those Hot Zone ristos do or say. It’s not like what they do matters up where we are, in the high latitudes.”</p><p>“Not even in the conclave?”</p><p>“They can yap all they like,” Fen said indifferently. “Doesn’t matter to us.”</p><p>Inwardly, he seethed. Every lordling in the Hot Zone sneered at anyone from outside their area and the further away a demesne was, the more they sneered. As though because a demesne like HighTower was geographically distant and isolated, it made them stupid and provincial. Not worthy of respect or care. Those arrogant ristos in the livery stable yard, Walter and Charlton DelFino and Dimitri Orlov, had behaved exactly as he’d been told Hot Zone lordlings would.</p><p>Time to change the subject, he thought. No reason to worry Lannie about how anyone from the Ennaretee was regarded as a scruffy illiterate barbarian living in a tent year-round.</p><p>“We’ll make camp early tonight,” Fen said. “You can tell me about visiting Ranaglia.”</p><p>“No,” Lannie said thoughtfully while her mind raced. It would be darn difficult to talk about Ranaglia without mentioning Charlton or who she really was. Daddy had been correct about sticking to the truth wherever possible and that also kept her from bursting into nervous, revealing giggles.</p><p>“I think I’d rather learn more about HighTower. I never heard of it until I met you and if I’m going to live there, it would be nice to not be completely ignorant.”</p><p>She smiled down at Fen and to her immense relief, he said “Sure!”</p><hr/><p>Ulla sat through dinner lost in thought. How should she approach Charlton and Iolanthe over what the postal clerk in Merreth had revealed? Iolanthe was part of DelFino now and she was almost certain her loyalties had transferred over from Orlov, but what if she was wrong. Dimitri would return to Merreth and beat the truth out of Jennet.</p><p>Unfortunately, the evening’s schedule suddenly filled up. Ottilie had made sure everyone in town knew Iolanthe and Charlton had arrived. A steady drip of visitors dropped in all evening. They were curious if Lannie had been discovered. They were eager to discuss Albion’s exile in the Orlov townhouse along with Rastislav’s public collapse into drunken ranting and were the two items connected via Albion feeding poisoned tisanes to Rastislav as he had to his wife. When one group would leave, a few minutes of peace would descend and last just long enough for Ulla to ask for privacy and then someone else would arrive.</p><p>It was maddening.</p><p>It was even more maddening to watch Naomi monopolize each group of visitors and shift the conversation over to herself, her joy in marrying Walter, how she was sure she and Walter would be blessed very soon with heirs, and how the wealth of Khan would ensure that DelFino could better utilize their own lands.</p><hr/><p>The evening was finally over. The time was near midnight.</p><p>“Iolanthe, Charlton,” Ulla hissed, trying hard to not attract notice. “We have to talk.”</p><p>“Yes,” Iolanthe agreed. “My darling, I’m tired. Would you help me upstairs?” She yawned ostentatiously, covering her mouth while making it obvious that she was done for the day. It wasn’t difficult. She was worn out and ached all over. The pain tea Grimaldi provided had yet to kick in.</p><p>“I suppose Charlton is going to show off his muscles like some labor-caste again and carry you up the stairs?” Ottilie asked.</p><p>“You bet I will,” Charlton replied with a grin and a wink.</p><hr/><p>Once upstairs and behind closed doors, Ulla didn’t give Iolanthe a chance to bring up the long braid of hair on the scruffy teenager who’d been seen in Weer, trying to sell stolen pearls.</p><p>Instead, she plunged in with “Jennet, the postal clerk in Merreth, wrote to me and she said that a raggedy girl mailed a little box to Charlton DelFino. The raggedy girl claimed Charlton was her brother and Jennet has confirmed that the raggedy girl was Lannie. Charlton, what did Lannie mail to you?”</p><p>Iolanthe and Charlton both sat back in shock.</p><p>“Uh,” he said.</p><p>“So it’s true,” Ulla said. “You got more than a postcard.”</p><p>“Are you sure the postal clerk didn’t mean a postcard?” Iolanthe asked carefully.</p><p>“I spoke to this woman and observed her post office and how she interacted with customers,” Ulla said. “Jennet would never make a mistake like that. And yes, there was a postcard to Charlton as well. She wrote she saw it when she processed the mail at the end of the day. Lannie bought the box, paper, and stamps from the clerk to mail the package. What was in the box?”</p><p>“Lannie didn’t buy the postcard?” Iolanthe asked, praying they were all wrong about the postcard coming from Panschin.</p><p>“No. It was stamped and ready to go and she dropped it off in the box without needing any help. Jennet claims she didn’t read the message Lannie wrote because that would be in violation of postal regulations.”</p><p>“Yeah, I believe that,” Charlton said harshly.</p><p>“She might not have,” Ulla retorted. “She’s that kind of a clerk. You should have seen her with Dimitri when he screamed at her.”</p><p>“My brother was abusive?” Iolanthe asked, horrified.</p><p>“Yes, he was. Only us and RedHawk and the arrival of the Martian postal inspector the next day kept him from beating up that poor girl,” Ulla said. “I know Orlov needs the Pearls back but he was acting as though it was life and death.”</p><p>“It is,” Iolanthe said. “My brother is under enormous pressure but it must be worse than I believed.”</p><p>“Tell me later, but first, what was in the box Lannie mailed you?”</p><p>“Did the postal clerk tell you how Lannie paid for the box?” Charlton asked.</p><p>“No,” Ulla said. “What difference does it make?”</p><p>“My love, I think we must tell Ulla,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“Did the clerk say anything about my sister? Why did she call her the raggedy girl?” Charlton asked.</p><p>Ulla plunged into a recital of everything the postal clerk wrote to her, from her description of Lannie to her fears about being prosecuted by both the Martian postal service for revealing a customer’s activities to her even greater fears of DelFino and Orlov.</p><p>When she finished, Ulla said, “We know Lannie is wearing a man’s coverall, ten sizes too big, when she bought the box. Her hair is in braids without anything to tie them off. She had no boots. She was using the too-long pants legs to cover her feet which would explain why she needed boots so badly. Someone helped her and we think, Charlton, you might know who that person was —”</p><p>“— What? Impossible,” Charlton said, interrupting her.</p><p>“What was in the box!” Ulla yelled. She looked ready to slit his throat with a letter opener.</p><p>“The pearl earrings,” he answered heavily. “Both of them. They look like clusters of grapes with added diamonds and jade leaves. There are twenty-four pearls in each earring.”</p><p>“We’re claiming it’s my dowry from Orlov,” Iolanthe added. “Charlton has already sold some of the pearls in Telduv to meet his estates’ needs. My question is this. Did the clerk say how Lannie paid for the postage?”</p><p>“With money,” Ulla said. She carefully did not add ‘moron’ because Iolanthe was not stupid.</p><p>“Unless she found some coin along the way, Lannie didn’t have any,” Charlton said. “She wore the flashy ballgown to the cathedral, like the copy that dressmaker sold you. I don’t know if that gown had pockets and besides, Lannie’s pin money was left behind in her room.”</p><p>“The dressmaker’s gown didn’t have pockets,” Iolanthe said. “I checked after breakfast this morning, before we left for the Great Hospital. I think I know how Lannie paid for her postage.”</p><p>“It should be obvious. Whoever she’s with paid for it, just like they gave her the postcard,” Ulla said impatiently.</p><p>“No, maybe not. We think that Lannie paid for the postage by trading part of the Pearls of Orlov,” Charlton said.</p><p>“Jennet wouldn’t have done that,” Ulla said. “The Martian post office doesn’t accept barter and she’s a stickler for the rules from what I saw.”</p><p>“You’ve never seen the Pearls of Orlov,” Iolanthe said. “In exchange for something small, like a ring and the sot brought several of the rings with him to Barsoom, Jennet would have done just that. The Pearls cast a spell on whoever sees them. Don’t look at me like I’m crazy, Ulla. It’s true. It works on me and I’ve seen the Pearls all my life.”</p><p>“You should have seen my mother, my village headman, and your father seeing the earrings for the first time,” Charlton added. “My mother and my headman were enthralled. Your father was afraid of them, how they made him feel. I only showed a few pearls at a time to the jewelers at Telduv and they couldn’t stop staring. At three pearls! They do cast a spell on most people.”</p><p>“What about you?” Ulla asked. “Are you special that they don’t affect you? This is craziness.” My father was affected? That is bizarre, she thought.</p><p>“Ulla, I know it sounds crazy, but the Pearls really do affect everyone who sees them,” Iolanthe said. “I watched what happened in the cathedral. Walter was entranced as was Zachery. Charlton is the only person I have ever observed who sees the Pearls for what they truly are: incredibly valuable jewelry that can be sold for heaps of coin. <em>I</em> can’t see them that way and I know what they have done to Orlov.”</p><p>She reached out and caught Ulla’s protesting hands. “My guess is that Jennet is afraid of more than just DelFino and Orlov. She’s also afraid to admit she traded postal supplies in exchange for a ring or something else small, she can’t admit she has the ring, and she will never give the ring up.”</p><p>“If it’s a ring,” Ulla said in bemusement.</p><p>“It’s the most likely item,” Iolanthe said. “I’m guessing Lannie chose something small that wouldn’t attract a lot of attention. They’re very nice rings; bands of gold with four perfectly matched pearls on top arranged in a row so when you wear all the rings, pearls march across your entire hand.”</p><p>“Like brass knuckles?” Charlton asked, amused at the image.</p><p>“No, my darling,” Iolanthe said. “Like finger bracelets.”</p><p>Ulla pulled her hands away and sat down heavily on the bed.</p><p>“We have to make assumptions,” Iolanthe said. “Lannie still has the vast majority of the Pearls of Orlov. Charlton and I have the earrings. I’m guessing Jennet has one of the rings. The pawnshop owner claimed that a scraggly bearded teenaged male with a braid down to his ass tried to sell him two pearls.”</p><p>“What!” Charlton yelped and leaped to his feet. “I knew it! Cardozo lied to me. That must be Fen, the stablehand who was beating Walter to a pulp for trying to rape his daughter.”</p><p>“Charlton,” Iolanthe hissed. “Everyone will hear you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ulla said. “I wouldn’t put it past Naomi to listen at keyholes.”</p><p>Iolanthe snickered. “Not Naomi, not if the stories I heard are true. She’s probably putting Walter through his paces right now. I’m surprised we can’t hear them.”</p><p>“We are getting off track,” Charlton snarled. “I don’t care what Naomi’s doing with Walter. He married her and he’s got to keep her busy or she’ll go looking for sex someplace else. What matters is Cardozo lied to me about my sister!”</p><p>“Maybe not,” Iolanthe said. “We don’t know.”</p><p>“He didn’t see her in that flashy ballgown,” Ulla said. “Dimitri and I asked.”</p><p>“He would not have made the connection between Lannie in a raggedy coverall and Lady Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino in an expensive ballgown,” Iolanthe said. “No one would. We have to talk to him.”</p><p>“So you think the person who helped Lannie escape Barsoom is the stablehand you and Dimitri beat up?” Ulla said.</p><p>“I hope not,” Charlton said, up on his feet and pacing the room. He punched the air. “Lannie knows about the braid of hair hanging down to his ass. Walter and I told her on the way to the cathedral. It got her to stop crying. My sister isn’t stupid. She might have seen this Fen character leaving Barsoom and asked for help.”</p><p>“A damsel in distress,” Iolanthe said slowly. “And we already know that Fen, you said?”</p><p>Charlton nodded, shadow-boxing as he did.</p><p>“Fen,” Iolanthe continued, “will come to a damsel’s rescue, like he did with Mr. Cardozo’s daughter. And if that damsel admits she is running away from DelFino and Orlov, he’ll be even more likely to help her.”</p><p>“As long as he doesn’t know who she really is,” Charlton said.</p><p>“And he doesn’t know she’d carrying the Pearls of Orlov,” Iolanthe finished up.</p><p>Ulla stared at them. “I wish I had an imagination. I can sort of follow your logic but I can’t see how you leaped across the rooftops to get there.”</p><p>“It all fits,” Iolanthe said. “Fen worked at the livery stable at the end of the alley near the cathedral. He had access to horses. The report from Weer described a teenaged boy with a braid down to his ass and a skinny teenaged girl with recently healed feet wearing a man’s coverall, ten sizes too big.”</p><p>“Jennet said the same thing about Lannie’s coverall,” Ulla said thoughtfully. “She also wrote that both pictures she was shown, by the two DelFino servants and the one Mr. RedHawk showed, were of Lannie but only if you looked at her face and not at her hair and clothes.”</p><p>“My sister is out there with some man who will rape and murder her as soon as he learns that she’s the relative of the men who beat him up,” Charlton said. “We’ll talk to Cardozo in the morning. Get Fen’s name. Where he lives. Hunt him down.”</p><p>Iolanthe laid her hand on his arm. “In the afternoon. We have appointments and Ottilie will not let me break them.”</p><p>“Wait for us, Charlton,” Ulla said. “I want to be there and Mr. Cardozo might be more willing to talk to you if Iolanthe is there. Like he was when you were there last.”</p><p>She paused. “You’re sure this guy in the report is Fen from the livery stable?”</p><p>“There can’t be that many young men running around Barsoom with scruffy beards and long braids,” Charlton replied irritably. “He looked like a savage. He had <em>beads</em> in his hair.”</p><p>“Are you going to tell Dimitri? He told us about the report,” Ulla said. “I don’t think you should.”</p><p>Iolanthe and Charlton stared at each other. She shuddered and leaned into Charlton and her eyes filled with tears.</p><p>“Dimitri has to retrieve the Pearls or all of Orlov will suffer. I’m DelFino now. He won’t care at all about Lannie but I do. He’ll sacrifice her to that scruffy teenager if he gets the Pearls back.”</p><p>“I’ll take that as a no because I don’t care what happens to those wretched pearls as long as Lannie comes home,” Ulla said. “I’m not a good liar. Can you lie to your brother? Can you, Charlton, lie to your best friend? Dimitri said Mr. RedHawk is in Weer asking questions about the teenagers. Mr. RedHawk does not give up and information like this will make sure he succeeds.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Iolanthe said, looking stricken. “Without the Pearls, Orlov faces bankruptcy. The family will suffer and the serfs will suffer more.”</p><p>“We’ll take it as it comes,” Charlton said and sighed even more heavily. “I know what Dimitri needs to do for his people and what I have to do for mine. But I cannot fail my sister again. I can’t.”</p><p>“We’ll find her. And if this Fen likes rescuing damsels, he may not harm Lannie,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“That may be true,” Charlton said sourly. “But there’s plenty of other people walking the Corridor from Barsoom to Panschin who will murder Lannie for a treasure like the Pearls of Orlov.”</p><hr/><p>Dawn arrived on schedule and for a change, it was dry after a dry night.</p><p>Fen yawned mightily. “I’ll check the snares, Lannie.”</p><p>She yawned in return and waved goodbye as he disappeared into the tall grass. Dawn always arrived too early, despite collapsing into sleep as soon as they settled in for the night. She examined the neat pyramid of dried grasses Fen had laid on the ashes of the previous night’s fire, grass he had cut the night before so it would dry out and have some hope of burning well. He had been trying to teach her how to light a fire but so far, she hadn’t been very successful. He rarely managed to light a fire the first time so it wasn’t just her clumsiness.</p><p>It was so quiet. As always, Fen chose a decent but not spectacular campsite even though she had never seen anyone else leave the road like they did. He was cautious, she supposed, but it did seem unnecessary. They were a good distance away from the road, separated by low, rolling hills. This campsite was in open steppes, no farmed areas nearby at all. The towns they passed clustered around the waystations and in the stretches between waystations, the land became increasingly empty of people, fields, orchards, and any other sign of agriculture as they got further from Barsoom.</p><p>She fiddled with the fire, trying to light it. It took all her concentration to coax a spark from tinder and flint but the dry grass she had ready refused to catch fire. Coppertail was hobbled nearby, ignoring her in favor of grazing.</p><p>She kept trying.</p><p>There. She almost had it. And then she didn’t. Darn it.</p><p>Wouldn’t Fen be pleased if she got the fire going by the time he returned with some unlucky rabbit. If he snared a rabbit. The previous day he’d caught some kind of bird, smaller than a chicken. It was messy and once the feathers were plucked, there wasn’t much meat at all and they’d eaten mil-rats afterwards. Fen had wanted to take the feathers, just like he’d kept her old boots despite them not fitting her at all or him.</p><p>“They’ll fit someone in HighTower,” Fen said and added them to Coppertail’s burden. No wonder he wanted a horse for her. A third horse would be nice, to carry everything else and to spell the first two from carrying them, day after day after day.</p><p>She had never given much thought to taking care of horses before, other than they got tired like everyone else. There. Lannie grinned at the heap of dried grass. She almost had it. Next time for sure.</p><p>Coppertail suddenly neighed loudly, startling her and she dropped the tinder and looked up and she wasn’t alone any more.</p><p>“Don’t you look sweet,” the first man said. He was rough-looking, scruffy, tall and heavily built. His black hair was tied back in a short loose ponytail. His complexion was a muddy yellow-green, very low-caste.</p><p>“And all alone too,” the second man said. He was wirier in build but like the first man, he looked like he could snap Fen in two. He had lighter hair, equally muddy green skin, and the coldest eyes Lannie had ever seen.</p><p>“I am not alone,” Lannie said and sat back carefully.</p><p>“Yes, you are, sweetie. I see one very fine horse and one bedroll and you,” the second man said. “You’re alone.”</p><p>“I would disagree. She’s not alone, Reg,” the first man said. He grinned broadly, revealing that he had filed his two canine teeth to points. “Not no more.”</p><p>“You are right. She’s got us,” Reg said. He grinned and his canines were also filed to points.</p><p>“I have a boyfriend,” Lannie said more loudly. Her heart was beating so loudly she thought she would go deaf and she couldn’t think and she had to do something other than crouch in front of a heap of dried grass and last night’s dead fire.</p><p>“You’re wrong about that, sweetie. You got two boyfriends. Us and we’re about to get to know you a lot better. I’m Killem,” the first man said. “My partner is Reg. You belong to us now.”</p><p>His hands went to unbutton the flap of his trousers and Lannie was able to move. She screamed and screamed and screamed, while trying to scrabble back from the unlit fire and get to her feet and maybe, reach Coppertail and leap on his back to flee despite his hobbles, and wish desperately she had a weapon that they couldn’t take away from her and then she found words instead of just screams.</p><p>“My boyfriend will kill you!”</p><p>“Quit lying and we’ll go easy on you, sweetie. I want to see what’s under that ugly coverall,” Reg said. His own hands were at his buttons. “Take it off or I’ll rip it off.”</p><p>He would discover the Pearls of Orlov, far more valuable than she was. Lannie screamed again, louder, harsher, wishing desperately Fen would appear from wherever he was, but he didn’t. Had these two ruffians already murdered him?</p><p>She was doomed.</p><hr/><p>Fen examined his snare and sighed. Empty. Mil-rats again and he’d been getting better at snaring rabbits. Maybe he had gotten lucky with the other one. Or maybe not. It just didn’t feel like his luck was with him this morning with his snares and he couldn’t say why. From the bent grass, a rabbit had evaded this snare. They couldn’t be getting smarter because he was too far out in the steppes for rabbits to become wary around snares. Foxes, yes. Snares, no. He caught the sound of Coppertail’s neigh. Odd.</p><p><em>Aaaaaaaaaaah</em>!</p><p>Lannie. Why was Lannie screaming? He thought she’d understood to not scream unless she was in real danger and not just because she saw a snake. Except since that morning, she’d seen snakes and not screamed. Coppertail had neighed. He went still and listened intently. The constant low hum of birds and insects had stopped. No surprise. The wind was wrong. He stood very slowly, listening and caught her scream again, more frightened and despairing and something was wrong.</p><p>He wanted to run across the hill and see what had frightened her so badly and he took a step forward and then stopped. He had to think and see what was happening. His brothers and cousins would charge over the hill, yelling all the way, and if there were bandits on the other side like he had been watching out for all along, he was dead and Lannie might as well be.</p><p>He bent low and swiftly, silently made his way through the tall grass, curving around the hill so he arrived not as he’d left the campsite, but as if he was approaching it from the road. Where bandits would come from, following the trail he and Lannie and Coppertail had left in the tall grass the evening before.</p><p>It took moments, moments in which his heart raced as he heard Lannie’s voice appear and disappear with the hill in the way and the wind and was there someone else’s voice?</p><p>A pair of horses. The showiest, most striking mare he’d ever seen and a fine chestnut gelding with black stockings and he’d never seen either horse before and both were hobbled and he took it all in almost without thought. The horses were calm, as if they’d heard plenty of screaming before and no longer cared.</p><p>Two men then. He paused as he heard Lannie scream that she had a boyfriend and took stock quickly. He had his knife, a good and wickedly sharp long blade, the element of surprise, and that was all. His machete was with his saddlebags and so might as well have been on the moons. Two men were threatening Lannie or she wouldn’t be screaming in mortal terror and he didn’t dare make a mistake or he’d die on the steppes and she would be raped endlessly until she wished for death.</p><p>The bandits were focusing on Lannie. They thought they were safe out on the steppes. They wouldn’t be expecting someone to come up from behind them. He had to kill them both, do it fast, no mistakes or hesitation, or they’d gut him and make sure he died as painfully as possible and then they’d turn on Lannie.</p><p>Sweet, pretty Lannie with her big brown eyes and lustrous dark hair. Lannie who wanted to come to HighTower. Lannie who’d told two strangers she had a boyfriend and she meant him.</p><p>He slipped over the rise of the hill, barely above the ground so he wouldn’t be seen and it was as bad as he feared.</p><p>Two men. Rough. Weathered. They outweighed him and were undoubtedly far more experienced and vicious fighters. They were intent on Lannie and not paying attention to anything else.</p><p>His knife was out. One chance. Hamstring them both and then slash their throats open so they bled out at both neck and thigh? He glanced down at his knife blade in his fist. Their leather boots didn’t go past the knees. This was where his luck had gone. Their clothes were cloth and not leather and his knife, wielded fast and savagely hard would slash through cloth and muscle to the bone but he didn’t dare catch the bone and he had to be fast and silent and force the blade through all that muscle, first one man and then the other.</p><p>Then he’d cut their throats or die trying.</p><p>Lannie, Fen thought. I’m coming for you.</p><p>I will not fail you, Lannie.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. They cut the tattoos off their victims’ arms and tanned them.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“A message from VanDenRooz, dad,” Ethan HighTower said. He held out the little curl of paper, removed from the leg of a pigeon moments ago.</p><p>Borvo HighTower took it and unrolled the paper to read the message from his counterpart, the daimyo of VanDenRooz.</p><p>He groaned and held out the slip so the other visitors in his office could pass it around and confirm what he said for themselves. “Theo hasn’t gotten any news more recent than us, a postcard from Weer.”</p><p>Ethan looked over at the map adorning the wall of the daimyo’s office. It showed the entire Northern Hemisphere of Mars, from Northernmost down to Barsoom and all the demesnes and government corridors and free-cities between.</p><p>“Then Fen hasn’t even reached the 10° Latitude Corridor. The crossroads city is Eljinn.”</p><p>“We can all read a map, Ethan,” his cousin Gerard said.</p><p>“I know that,” Ethan protested. “But can Fen? He’s probably lost.”</p><p>“Not our Fen,” Macon said. He was Borvo’s first cousin and Gerard’s father. “He’s not a ramshackle idiot like you.”</p><p>“Enough!” Borvo shouted. The argument had been going on for some time and had gotten nowhere. “Fen made it on time to Barsoom, he voted in the zemstvo, and he paid the bank draft. He did what he said he’d do and if he wants to sightsee on the way home, that’s his lookout.”</p><p>“True enough,” Macon said.</p><p>“Fen’s the runt of the litter and you should have never sent him,” Ethan snapped.</p><p>“You couldn’t go, moron,” Gerard said. “You broke your leg because you were playing the fool and you knew the task was coming up. No one else could go but Fen.”</p><p>“You could have gone,” Ethan shot back. “Or were you too busy with Jiying?”</p><p>“Don’t be a bigger fool than you have to be, Ethan,” Borvo said wearily. “They were newlyweds and there wasn’t coin to send them off to Barsoom on a honeymoon. I would have sent you —”</p><p>“— and worried every second over what stupidity you were getting up to,” Macon interrupted.</p><p>“Exactly,” Borvo continued. “But you broke your fool leg, Ethan. We’re lucky you didn’t break your fool skull open. At least your leg healed straight.”</p><p>“None of this changes facts, my lord,” Dawud said from his station in the corner of the office. He glanced at his steppes partner, Kavan, and received the slightest of nods. “Our Fen did well all the way to Barsoom. He’s already got a good reputation with Kenyatta and then Krangland and Armstrong because of those bandits he dealt with. I recommend you assume Fen knows what he’s doing. He’s not a fool.”</p><p>“He’s got some reason for not writing you regular postcards,” Kavan said. “We’ll find out what it is.”</p><p>“If he makes it home,” Borvo replied.</p><p>“He’s the runt,” Ethan began.</p><p>“You couldn’t have done nothing of what our Fen did, just riding down to Kenyatta, let alone what he managed afterwards,” Dawud said icily.</p><p>“You’re all bluster and swagger and no common sense, Ethan,” Kavan added. “Every Hand in HighTower <em>and</em> our quad know it.”</p><p>“Ethan, shut up. Listen to the Hands, Borvo,” Macon said. “We have to trust Fen knows what he’s doing. Unlike some, he’s not reckless. He’ll never rush off, yelling all the way, and hoping everyone will admire him. He won’t risk his life to show off.”</p><p>Ethan opened his mouth, caught everyone’s glare, and shut it. Fen was a pesty little brother as well as the runt of the litter but he wasn’t getting any support and his father, the daimyo, did not want to listen. It was better to not say anything, not yet. At least the runt had paid the loan on time and voted as required. If he never returned, it was no great loss to HighTower. The family had other sons. Damn Hands. They never respected him and he couldn’t figure out why.</p><p>The other question eating at him was Fen a coward? Ethan had never been able to decide. Fen always hesitated for a few minutes before acting. As though he was afraid and had to force himself. Yet the story they’d been told, from multiple sources no less, said Fen had acquitted himself bravely and well. Booty had arrived home and he’d earned it because it would not have showed up otherwise.</p><p>Scrawny, cautious Fenrick HighTower, the runt of the litter, had won booty and earned the respect of strangers.</p><p>Ethan caught himself doing something he never normally did. He had to consider that it was remotely possible he might be wrong.</p><hr/><p>Fen got as close as he dared, silent, afraid to rustle a single blade of grass that would alert his prey. They had their backs to him and were, from the fear on Lannie’s face, getting ready to maul her.</p><p>He moved, ready, already decided on who he would strike first, and she saw him. He saw her eyes widen and he knew she was going to scream out something and alert the bandits to his presence.</p><p>Now.</p><p>He reared out of the grass and slashed across the back of the closer bandit’s thighs as deeply as he could, the razor-sharp blade tearing through cloth like it wasn’t there and slicing through blood vessels, tough muscle and tougher sinew and the bandit screamed and staggered as he forced the blade through one thigh and then the other with all his strength, deeply grateful that he didn’t catch on the thigh bones.</p><p>At the same time, Lannie screamed even louder and snatched up handfuls of ash from last night’s dead fire and threw it in their faces, followed by a handfuls of dirt and all the while she screamed and screamed, distracting both bandits.</p><p>Halfway through the second thigh. The blade caught on something, Fen twisted it free from bone, and shoved shoulder-first into the first bandit, already falling, to knock him over, and then whirled to meet his partner who was spinning to meet him, and he leaped forward and under, avoiding the ash-blinded bandit’s windmilling arms and drove his knife into the bandit’s throat under the chin, where the artery lay.</p><p>He didn’t get a clean cut, but he nicked the artery good and the blood spray began as he wrenched out his knife.</p><p>The second bandit had pulled out his own knife, a longer blade and he had a longer reach and Fen knew he wouldn’t last long when the bandit suddenly stumbled over his flailing partner, on the ground and screaming and unable to do more than drag himself along.</p><p>His chance. He didn’t hesitate and lunged again, taking a precious millisecond to aim for the bandit’s pulsing throat, already bloodied by the first cut. This stab worked and blood sprayed out harder, pumped by the bandit’s heart but no longer contained by his flesh.</p><p>All the while, Lannie kept screaming and threw dirt, pebbles, rocks at the bandit on the ground while scrabbling away from his reaching hands. He was still moving, still a threat, even if he was pouring out his life’s blood and had to drag himself along on the ground and he was doing just that, grabbing at Lannie blindly, using her screams to orient himself.</p><p>Fen shoved the second bandit to the ground, bleeding out but still on his feet, and lunged for the first one and dug his knife blade into the man’s side, hoping to quickly gut him.</p><p>The second bandit fell on him, forcing Fen to roll and stab while trying to avoid being slashed to ribbons and Lannie slammed a rock into the bandit’s skull, distracting him and letting Fen finish slashing his throat from ear to ear, arteries, veins, and windpipe.</p><p>One down.</p><p>One to go.</p><p>The first bandit, hamstrung and bleeding, intestines already starting to slip out from his slit gut, wiped ashes from his face and laughed harshly, a gurgle of blood, and threw his knife but not at Fen.</p><p>At Lannie. And he missed.</p><p>Fen lunged for the first bandit and finished the job, slashing his throat open and nearly cutting his head off in the process.</p><p>He stopped to look around, panting, shaking, desperately afraid he had missed a third bandit. Could there only be two? There were only two horses. The ground was soaked with blood. Flies would begin to swarm soon. Crows would follow. His heart pounded, his ears rang, and his chest was heaving for air.</p><p>“Fen!” Lannie yelled. She stumbled over to him and threw her arms around him. “I knew you would come,” she cried and burst into hysterical sobs.</p><p>“I’m getting you bloody,” he gasped.</p><p>She drew back and looked at him and screamed “you’re bleeding!”</p><p>“That’s them,” he said.</p><p>“No, it is <em>not</em>! It’s you!”</p><p>He looked down and became aware, for the first time, that he had been cut and was bleeding and bruised and at least one of the bandits had connected.</p><p>Fen started to laugh from the sheer joy of realizing they were both alive. “I can live with this, Lannie. You’re safe. I heard you scream and I was afraid I’d be too late. You were so brave, yeah?”</p><p>“I wasn’t brave. I was terrified.”</p><p>“But you didn’t panic. You screamed and you distracted them when I needed it.”</p><p>She flung her arms around him again and began sobbing anew. “You were right. There are bandits.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah. There are.”</p><p>She pulled her head from his chest and looked over at the sprawled bodies and grimaced and buried her face into his chest again, heedless of the blood.</p><p>“That’s awful.”</p><p>“What they would have done to you would have been worse.”</p><p>“I know.” She swallowed and choked back sobs. “They would have raped me.”</p><p>“Yeah. Bandits do that. They got no respect for women or anyone.”</p><p>She looked up at his face.</p><p>“I’m glad you killed them.”</p><p>“So am I. I am really glad you distracted them by throwing ashes and dirt. You blinded them, giving me a chance to kill them.”</p><p>Lannie smiled through her tears and a memory blazed through the shock and fear and trauma. Charlton had taught her to throw stones at spy-eyes, like he had taught her to throw snowballs, aiming at targets he chose on trees or out on the water. Never give up, he’d said, and then they would argue about whether or not she’d missed the target. He wouldn’t give her credit unless she hit the target dead-on and he had to decide if she had and today, when she’d desperately needed to be accurate, she was. She gave the bandits a more critical look, noting ash and dirt on faces and clothing. Her aim hadn’t been perfect, but she’d been close enough.</p><p>“I need to practice my throwing,” she said.</p><p>“Good idea,” Fen replied. She felt so good, her arms around his body, warm and alive even if she was oddly lumpy in spots. He couldn’t think anymore. He wanted to do nothing else ever again except hold Lannie and comprehend the fact that they were alive to tell the tale.</p><p>One of the bandits groaned.</p><p>Fen instantly pushed Lannie away and behind him to see which one was still alive and moving. They were both alive, but only one was still twitching. He’d always been told that a tough man could survive far more punishment than you’d expect. No man died instantly and here was the proof in front of him. This pair had minutes of life left, but they could still prove dangerous.</p><p>“Lannie,” Fen said. “I got to finish them off.”</p><p>“Won’t they die on their own?”</p><p>“Yeah, but this way, I know for sure.”</p><p>He finished slashing throats all around, followed by a twisting knife thrust between the ribs and then a belly slash for each man. When he was finished, he felt like an incompetent butcher. But it was done. These two would never come back.</p><p>Panting, he studied the bodies, shocked and surprised again at how much blood a human could contain. It was a pity he had to kill them. He would have much preferred to strip them and stake them and let the steppes do the job. While the steppes welcomed a blood sacrifice, staking gave a man agonizing time to contemplate his sins and beg forgiveness from his gods while the flies and ants and carrion birds set upon him and feasted.</p><p>Lannie came up alongside him, startling him when she seized his hand and clutched it tightly.</p><p>“What do we do next?”</p><p>She looked around them at the quiet steppes, the insects just beginning to buzz again while flies appeared from nowhere. Fen looked up. A vulture and then a second one catching the bright smell of fresh blood scenting the air. Anyone paying attention might come and see why vultures were beginning to circle high overhead on the thermals.</p><p>He looked around. Where was Coppertail? He couldn’t have run far, hobbled as he was. And the bandits left behind two outstanding horses, if easily recognizable. He studied the bodies. Outstanding knives and quite possibly there were more than what he was seeing. Good boots. Ruined clothing but the bandits might have hard coin which he and Lannie desperately needed. And what was in the horses’ saddlebags?</p><p>“We’re gonna strip the bodies. Take everything we can load on Coppertail and their horses. If we find a stream, we’ll clean up all the blood on us.” They couldn’t go to a waystation drenched in blood.</p><p>“I couldn’t get the fire started for tea,” Lannie said numbly, wondering why it mattered.</p><p>“Just as well. We’ll drink cold water, eat a mil-rat, and get this job done,” Fen grinned widely. “Lannie, we got two more horses out of this deal.”</p><p>“Theirs?”</p><p>“Ours.”</p><p>“Okay.” She was becoming a hardened criminal, Lannie thought with horrified and dazed astonishment. She’d stolen the Pearls of Orlov, tried to kill two men (even if they were attacking her), watched Fen finish butchering them with the same levelheadedness he put into butchering snared game, and now she was stripping bodies and stealing horses.</p><p>But she didn’t want to strip bodies, especially hairy butchered men soaked in blood and their intestines spilling out of their slit bellies and she wanted to gag rather than go near them.</p><p>“I’ll find the horses,” she said.</p><p>“No. I know where their horses are. They’ll be skittish, Coppertail was spooked, and you don’t have the experience to handle them,” Fen said. “I know you’ve never done anything like this before —”</p><p>She began giggling hysterically and gulped “no, no, never,” and shook her head vigorously because there were no words and she was trying desperately not to shake and fall to the ground and never get up again.</p><p>“But they’re dead and we’re alive. If they got coin, we need it.”</p><p>“But we’ve got horses now,” Lannie argued.</p><p>“Rain gear for you and another tarp, Lannie,” Fen countered. She’d stopped giggling nervously and that was a good sign. He sweetened the deal. “Maybe even a tent.”</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said and blinked at the vision that rose before her. A tent. They could stay dry at night.</p><p>“Their horses are going to be a handful and I’ve got to find Coppertail. We can’t wait around and argue, Lannie. Someone may come and see why you were screaming and —” he pointed to the sky “— why carrion birds are starting to flock. There’s always a few, but that’s noticeable. It means something big is dead.” It was a relief to take refuge in practicalities.</p><p>She looked up and it was true. Two birds were circling high above them. She looked back at the bodies, sprawled out and flies already swarming. If these bandits had found them, there might be others and dithering wouldn’t help. What would Ulla do? She’d be practical and wash her hands extremely well afterwards. What would Charlton say? He’d tell her to keep trying, to not give up, and to stay alive.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Take my knife to cut their clothes off. Easier to search pockets,” Fen said and handed her his blade. She took it, thankful he’d wiped it clean on the grass.</p><p>“Won’t you need one?”</p><p>“I’m taking theirs. They’re mine now. Make sure you salvage the boots. Someone at HighTower can use them.”</p><p>In a few minutes, he’d disappeared over the hill with both bandits’ knives, leaving Lannie alone on the steppes again.</p><p>She flinched, cringed, shuddered, was grateful she hadn’t eaten yet, and did what she had to do. Their hairy male nakedness was repellent as was the smell of torn-open guts and shit, but the coin in pockets made it worthwhile. So did some jewelry and, horrifyingly, a finger with the gold ring still on it tucked into a pocket. It looked fresh. She gagged and carefully worked the ring free and dug a little hole in the dirt to bury someone’s finger. A woman’s finger.</p><p>These bandits deserved a harsher death than Fen had given them. The crows could eat them down to the bone and Lannie knew she’d never regret a single moment of their deaths. Who was that unfortunate woman? She was probably dead and her name lost to the wind.</p><p>Lannie was grimly wrestling a boot free when Fen came back over the hill, riding Coppertail. He led two other horses; a handsome chestnut gelding with black stockings and the showiest, most astonishingly colored mare she’d ever seen.</p><p>The mare was gorgeous. She was a creamy dapple gray with a black mane and tail and legs that looked like they had been dipped in milk up to her body. She sported a white blaze and the most intelligent brown eyes Lannie had ever seen on a horse.</p><p>“She’s beautiful,” Lannie blurted out, suddenly thinking of pearls made into flesh and bone.</p><p>“Yeah. Coppertail found his way to them. The three of them were getting to know each other and they let me lead them here,” Fen said. “I have never seen a mare like this. Calm and smart, too.”</p><p>“I’m almost done,” Lannie said. She pointed to the little pile of salvaged coins, jewelry, and told him about the ring. Fen grimaced.</p><p>“Sounds like bandits. I’m gonna search the saddlebags while you finish stripping the bodies.”</p><p>“Right,” Lannie said, thinking she could search saddlebags while Fen finished stripping dead bodies of their valuables. It was disgusting and only the thought of having coin to purchase rain gear and a tent was keeping her going. They wouldn’t have to sell the remaining eight pearls and more importantly, she wouldn’t have to admit how many more pearls she had stolen.</p><p>A few minutes later, Fen gasped and gagged.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Madre Winter, they were evil,” Fen said. He held up an opened drawstring bag, his nose wrinkled with disgust and horror. His hand shook.</p><p>“More fingers?” Lannie whispered.</p><p>“No. I learned in Barsoom that everybody gets a tattoo of their family name in a half-circle on their left arm when they hit adulthood. When you marry, you get your partner’s family name tattooed on to finish the circle.”</p><p>“I didn’t know that,” Lannie said, starting to be afraid of what Fen had discovered in the bag.</p><p>“We don’t do nothing like that in the Ennaretee,” Fen said. “Those too —”</p><p>“— they called themselves Reg and Killem,” Lannie interrupted, seeing Fen’s nausea and wanting to distract him.</p><p>“Reg and Killem collected souvenirs. They cut the tattoos off their victims’ arms and tanned them.” He pulled out a circle of greenish-gray leather, the writing still visible. He held it carefully between thumb and forefinger so she could see. “There’s a lot of them.”</p><p>“Oh Gods,” Lannie mumbled and looked away. “They deserved killing. What should we do?”</p><p>“I’m gonna bury the bag next to that finger you buried. Build a rock cairn. Say prayers for their souls because I’m sure those folks this skin came from are dead. Then we’re gonna finish up and get the hellation out of here. These two may not have worked alone and someone may come looking for them.”</p><p>“There are other bandits?” she gasped.</p><p>“It’s likely. They don’t have enough gear for someone camping out in the steppes. There must be a hideout somewhere. We got to move, Lannie.”</p><hr/><p>Once they’d finished with the grisly work of stripping the bodies of everything Fen deemed worthy of salvage, he loaded up Coppertail and lifted Lannie onto the dapple-gray mare’s back.</p><p>She looked at him questioningly.</p><p>“These are good horses, some of the best I’ve ever seen. We’ll spell Coppertail for a while and use them.”</p><p>He mounted the chestnut gelding and set off at a good clip, Lannie following as best she could. All her practice on Coppertail had been at a walk and this was more difficult. It reminded her of being back home in DelFino and never managing to get the hang of riding free and easy like her brother did, or Ulla, Walter, and all her other cousins.</p><p>“Wait up!” she finally called and he returned, chagrined at leaving her behind him.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I forgot you couldn’t ride as well as I can. We’ll go slower.”</p><p>After an hour or so, Lannie asked, “are we going to return to the road? It would be easier and faster.” She looked behind them at the path they’d forged through the grass and the tall grass that lay ahead.</p><p>“No,” Fen replied. “I’ve been thinking. I don’t know if those two, Reg and Killem, worked alone. But whether they did or didn’t, these horses are distinctive, especially your mare. I’ve never seen a horse like her. Everyone who’s ever met Reg and Killem would remember that mare. I don’t want someone seeing the mare to think we’re bandits and I really don’t want to meet any of Reg and Killem’s friends.”</p><p>“That makes sense,” Lannie said. “Won’t we get lost?”</p><p>Fen laughed. “No. I’m keeping the corridor off to my left. I can just about hear the road noise and that tells me I’m where I want to be. Out of sight, but not too far away so I can get water.” He lifted himself up in the saddle suddenly, responding to a signal that Lannie didn’t see.</p><p>“I think we’re coming near to a stream. The chestnut seems to think so and so does Coppertail.” He grinned broadly. “We can water the horses without anyone seeing us and we can wash off all the blood.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said and looked down at herself. She had blood on her coverall, although she wasn’t nearly as dirty and blood-smeared as Fen was. She’d have to take it off, without revealing the Pearls of Orlov. Fen would see her body if she wasn’t careful. She would see him and after dealing with the hairy nakedness of those bandits, seeing a half-dressed male wasn’t something she wanted to do.</p><p>But it was Fen and he was nothing like those filthy, scarred bandits. Or old, paunchy, disgusting Rastislav Orlov. He was young and attractive and caring and maybe it would be … interesting instead of disgusting and scary. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d saved her despite enormous risk to himself. He’d killed two men who would have raped and murdered her. He cared. Despite the sweetheart waiting for him in HighTower, he cared.</p><p>“Okay,” she said again.</p><hr/><p>Mr. Cardozo studied his fingernails, then looked back up at that damned risto, Charlton DelFino, watching him intently. He looked as much of a thug as ever, although a much better dressed and groomed thug than on their previous meetings. The too-familiar blonde harpy hovered behind him, looking like she’d leap across the table and stab him in the throat if he made a single mistake. At least Lady Iolanthe was both sympathetic and not dangerous, being a cripple. Although his wife disagreed, having avidly dissected Lady Iolanthe’s unusually timely fainting spell and subsequent manipulation of the Keerkehgards during her previous visit.</p><p>The story they related today was wildly improbable but at the same time, it was what Fen or any man from the Ennaretee would do: take a young woman home. Very few of the women, so the stories he’d heard went, ever came back.</p><p>“You really think your sister took off with our Fen,” he said cautiously.</p><p>“It fits all the facts, Mr. Cardozo,” Charlton said. “Lannie was terrified and had to get out of Barsoom in a hurry and Fen was in a hurry. She knew who he was because of the braid of hair hanging down to his ass, even if he didn’t know who she was.”</p><p>“We know he rescued your daughter, Astrid, from Walter,” Iolanthe said. “That shows Fen is willing to help a young woman in distress.”</p><p>“Speaking of which,” Charlton said, “did Walter cause you trouble afterwards? Be honest.”</p><p>Mr. Cardozo relaxed slightly. “No. We’ve had no repercussions from DelFino. We’ve rented out horses and carriages to DelFino as needed just like always. None of the DelFino grooms or stablehands have said a word about DelFino suing or dropping their contract with us.”</p><p>“Good,” Charlton said. “Inform me at once if anything changes. Who is Fen? He’s got to be from somewhere.”</p><p>“You don’t know?” Mr. Cardozo asked in surprise. “He’s from the Ennaretee.”</p><p>“How do you know?” Iolanthe asked.</p><p>“Only Ennaretee men never cut their hair or beards and they all have those beads woven in,” Mr. Cardozo replied. “Amazing horsemen, too, as well as desperately poor.”</p><p>Mrs. Cardozo stirred herself. “That’s why our Fen slept in the stall with his horse and worked in the stables while he was here. To save coin. They all do that, take care of their horses first and then themselves.”</p><p>“Good to know,” Charlton said. He exchanged glances with Iolanthe and they both knew the other was thinking the same thing. The Pearls of Orlov were a fabulous treasure, well worth murdering someone to get them. “The Ennaretee’s a big place. Do you know which part he’s from?”</p><p>Mr. Cardozo thought about lying and decided the risk was too great. Fen saved Astrid but he had gone home to the Ennaretee, likely to never return, and Astrid was here in Barsoom. His daughter deserved a future free of DelFino interference and persecution.</p><p>“HighTower.”</p><p>“I’ve never heard of them,” Charlton said. “Iolanthe, Ulla, do you know anyone from there?”</p><p>Both women shook their heads.</p><p>“It this place a demesne?” Iolanthe asked.</p><p>“Think so,” Mr. Cardozo replied.</p><p>“Yes. Our Fen was in Barsoom for a reason,” Mrs. Cardozo interrupted. “We spoke a few times. He was on an errand for his daimyo. He did it and then he stayed to watch the minor conclave sessions. If he was from a free-city he wouldn’t have cared or been allowed in.”</p><p>“Is he a member of the HighTower family?” Iolanthe asked.</p><p>“He must be,” Charlton answered her. “The families aren’t allowed to send non-family members to represent themselves.”</p><p>“He never told us he was part of the family,” Mr. Cardozo said. “Just that he was from HighTower. They do things different up there.”</p><p>“Not that different,” Charlton said. “I know what the law is for the Four Hundred.”</p><p>“You should know this, my lord Charlton,” Mr. Cardozo said. “Them Ennaretee men have got reputations with women. They chase girls when they’re in Barsoom and they try to take them up north with them. Girls who go up north don’t come back. They’re not fussy about the girls either. I’ve heard of street whores going up north as well as girls from good families.”</p><p>“They don’t come back?” Iolanthe said, hand to her mouth.</p><p>“No, my lady. They don’t.”</p><hr/><p>At the carriage, Charlton lifted Iolanthe up and told Lesten to take them to the nearest café for tea and discussion. Once they were seated and Iolanthe was comfortable, he said, “this Fen must be part of the HighTower family. Low-level most likely, but trusted if he was on an errand for the daimyo.”</p><p>He kept glancing around at the streets around the café, as if hoping Lannie would suddenly appear, safe and sound.</p><p>“I need to go up there,” Ulla said determinedly.</p><p>“To HighTower? We don’t even know where that is,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“Do you want to save Lannie or not?” Ulla shot back.</p><p>“Quit that right now,” Charlton said. “The minute we start fighting among ourselves, we fail. Mr. Cardozo felt sure that Fen wouldn’t harm Lannie.”</p><p>“But he doesn’t know she’s your brother,” Ulla pointed out. “You beat him to a pulp and you’re Walter’s cousin.”</p><p>“And he doesn’t know about the Pearls,” Iolanthe added. “If HighTower is destitute, stealing the Pearls would solve all their money problems at once. Even the most virtuous of men would discard Lannie, dead in some ditch, if doing so meant he could save everyone else.”</p><p>“Who is this virtuous man?” Dimitri asked as he suddenly leaned over the barrier separating the outdoor tables from the sidewalk. He’d been watching the livery stable, knowing that Charlton and Iolanthe would visit it and had followed them to the café. His patience was rewarded. They knew.</p><p>Charlton sprang to his feet and hugged Dimitri. “Dimitri! What a surprise!”</p><p>“I freed up early and knew you were going to the livery stables so I thought I’d take the chance,” Dimitri said smilingly. He leaped over the barrier and sat down next to his sister, hugging her tightly as he did. “I saw you sitting here. What did you learn from that livery stable owner?”</p><p>“That he didn’t know what happened to Lannie,” Iolanthe said, hoping that her brother didn’t spot her lie. Sometimes he could, but only sometimes and she wasn’t exactly lying.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ulla said. “He said he never saw Lannie.” Which was true so it wasn’t a lie.</p><p>“In that yellow and green ballgown or in something else?” Dimitri asked. “I saw it at Parminder’s office and it was just as flashy as I remembered.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ulla said. “I mean, no, I mean Mr. Cardozo didn’t see Lannie wearing the ballgown that Mrs. Duckart made and Walter bought for Lannie’s wedding to the sot or whatever Lannie found in that cathedral chapel closet to wear. Like a coverall. He never saw her.”</p><p>“Ulla is correct,” Charlton said. “Mr. Cardozo didn’t see Lannie.” He spread his hands out on the table; heavy, callused workman’s hands dusted with dark hair. “It’s possible she met someone at the livery stable and Mr. Cardozo agrees that she could have. They’re busy; people coming and going all the time.”</p><p>“So you don’t know,” Dimitri said. “Then who was this virtuous man you were talking about?”</p><p>“We were speculating, Dimitri,” Iolanthe said. “Lannie was distraught and terrified that day. She looked like she’d been crying for days.”</p><p>“Because she had been,” Charlton added.</p><p>“She was a damsel needing rescue. We were talking about her possible rescuer and how it could all fall apart,” Iolanthe said. “If he realizes she’s carrying around the Pearls of Orlov.”</p><p>“We have to find them, Iolanthe,” Dimitri said. “There’s starting to be rumors about the Pearls. If we don’t show them, loans might get called in.”</p><p>“I don’t know about the rest of the Orlov family but if you’re an example, then you’re all really dim, Dimitri,” Ulla said. “Has it occurred to any of you that maybe the best alternative is for those wretched Pearls to disappear for good and for Orlov to declare bankruptcy and say the hell with it? All your debts would be cleared away and yeah, it would be hard to manage on just what Orlov produces but then you’d be like the rest of us working and living off your own resources. The Pearls made all of Orlov as crazy as Summerset and you know how crazy they are because of those rare earths.”</p><p>“We are not crazy like Summerset,” Dimitri said angrily. “You don’t see us carrying on about our turquoise eyes and magic white hairlocks and hosting Olde Earthe bastards on a regular basis because we’re willing to sell our souls for their money.”</p><p>“You might as well be,” Ulla shot back. “You listen to voices from the grave! You’re all barking mad and the Pearls make you madder.”</p><p>Dimitri leaped to his feet. “I am going to find the Pearls and save Orlov, with or without your help. Do I make myself clear?”</p><p>“I understand,” Iolanthe said. She reached for Charlton’s hand and squeezed it tightly as tears squeezed out, wetting her cheeks. “Orlov needs you but Lannie needs us.”</p><p>“I understand your predicament,” Charlton said to his best friend in the world. He pulled Iolanthe closer to him. “I’m doing what I have to do to save my own people and I don’t like a lot of what I’m going to do. But I can’t fail my sister either. Not again.”</p><p>“Get your thumbs out of your ass. Declare bankruptcy and get it over with,” Ulla said. “Those wretched pearls are long gone and you, us, and the rest of the planet will never see them again unless we find Lannie, alive and in one piece and probably not then.”</p><p>“May I assume you’ll still be dropping into Mr. Parminder’s office to compare notes?” Dimitri asked.</p><p>“Well, yeah, of course I will, moron,” Ulla said, incensed. “Just like I’m going to continue to visit the police substation. Someone saw Lannie with that dress and I’m going to find that someone and that someone knows where she went so we’ve got a real clue to work with about who Lannie might have met. At least I don’t have to go to the morgue anymore, although if I thought I’d find your body there, I would.”</p><p>“You are a harpy, Ulla, and I hope you punish that Avongale slobbo until he beats you senseless like you deserve. Charlton, Iolanthe, it was a pleasure as always,” Dimitri said and bowed gracefully.</p><p>He stalked off, his back rigid with fury. Once safely around the corner and out of eyeshot, Dimitri relaxed, although his fury at Ulla did not diminish. They knew what Lannie did at the livery stable and so did that damned Mr. Cardozo and as he expected, Iolanthe lied to his face. She had a vivid imagination and she could think on her feet. Charlton didn’t lie so everything he’d oh, so carefully said was the truth. Ulla hadn’t lied either and had only told him what he already knew, although her statement about bankruptcy demanded careful thought. He’d have to pass the information on to papa and Uncle Ljubo. The harpy wasn’t stupid.</p><p>But they had provided enough information to go to John RedHawk and have him carefully inspect Cardozo’s livery stables and ferret out every detail about Fen. The scruffy savage with the braid down to his ass had vanished around the same time that Lannie and the Pearls had. At any rate, <em>he</em> hadn’t seen Fen on regular, surreptitious visits and the savage was hard to miss. Riding with some savage would explain why Lannie hadn’t been seen.</p><hr/><p>“That was terrifyingly close, my darling,” Iolanthe said. She was ashy with fear and shaking.</p><p>“Yeah,” Charlton said morosely. “I’m failing my sister and I’m lying to my best friend.”</p><p>“That was awful,” Ulla said. Fine beads of sweat stood out on her forehead, far more than the heat of the day warranted. “I can’t lie very well and I was afraid I’d blurt out everything Mr. Cardozo said.”</p><p>“You did fine,” Iolanthe said. “Especially suggesting bankruptcy. I would have never thought of that.”</p><p>“I talked to Silas about bankruptcy during one of our dinners out,” Ulla admitted. “I didn’t bring up Orlov, but there’d been a story in the newspaper about bankruptcy laws and he knew plenty about bankruptcy and the Four Hundred and it was really interesting. It may be Orlov’s only solution.”</p><p>She moaned and forced herself to keep her hands on the table rather than gnawing on another fingernail. “We can’t tell Dimitri the truth about Fen HighTower and not just because we’re not 100% sure if that’s his real name. I saw how Dimitri treated Jennet in Merreth. He would have beaten her to a pulp to get even the tiniest clue. I don’t have an imagination but I think that Dimitri will murder Lannie to punish her when he finds her, whether or not he retrieves the Pearls of Orlov.”</p><p>“My brother would not do that,” Iolanthe protested, although she was no longer sure. What he said to Ulla had shocked her.</p><p>“You didn’t see him in Merreth,” Ulla said, looking nauseous. “I did.”</p><p>“I thought you didn’t have an imagination,” Charlton said.</p><p>“I don’t,” Ulla answered. “But I don’t need one to figure out which way the wind blows. I’ve never seen anyone so angry and so trapped. Dimitri’s Four Hundred, just like us and,” she sighed deeply. “Walter, going after Mr. Cardozo’s daughter. We do what the hellation we want and you know it.</p><p>“Luckily, he’s got Mr. RedHawk working for him,” Ulla added, breaking the unhappy silence. “And all of Mr. RedHawk’s stringers.”</p><p>She looked down at her hands again, spread on the table and thought about putting on Mrs. Duckart’s gloves to save her fingernails. “I trust Mr. RedHawk to not punish Lannie if he finds her first. He’s a very decent man from what I saw. Finding Lannie is a job. It’s not personal, like it is with Dimitri because Lannie stealing the Pearls tossed him and all of Orlov into hell.”</p><p>“Good to know,” Charlton said. He stared out into the crowds on the sidewalk, his hand wrapped around Iolanthe’s. “I lied to Dimitri so I have a hope of saving Lannie. Not one bit of this makes me feel better.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. I have no designs on your wife, delightful and charming though she is.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the IT department was sick: forgive the late posting</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Well?” Dimitri asked. “Did you learn anything?”</p><p>John RedHawk set his grip down with a thump and then sat down in his chair behind his desk, putting the broad, heavy, protective mass of wood and file-stuffed drawers between him and the risto lordling. He’d hadn’t gone home yet, had barely gotten inside Parminder Investigations and here was this damned risto lying in wait for him. To his chagrin, he realized he’d rather have the harpy waiting for him than his client. The harpy, for all her faults, wasn’t nearly as abusive and, despite her lies which she very obviously did not want to tell, seemed genuinely distraught over the missing Yilanda DelFino.</p><p>Fortunately, the peaceful and uninterrupted train ride from Weer had given him time to work out how he wanted to tell the story and, perhaps, force Dimitri Orlov to inadvertently reveal more of the truth instead of the passel of lies he’d been spewing. As the harpy often stated, Dimitri could be dim, so it was possible.</p><p>“I did, my lord Dimitri,” RedHawk replied. “The sheriff in Weer did not see either the scruffy lad with the braid and the stolen pearls nor did he see the young lady in the baggy man’s coverall, ten sizes too big. He told me the pawnbroker, Eddie, is very reliable in that he lies whenever it suits his own purposes. As per the sheriff, the general store owner, Eddie’s brother, Joe, is also well known to be reliable in the same fashion. Eddie instructed Joe to sell the young lady boots and socks at a huge discount. She was given certain supplies that ladies need on a monthly basis for free. This is suspicious behavior.”</p><p>“Why?” Dimitri asked. “No, I don’t care. Did anyone see Yilanda?”</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” Mr. RedHawk said patiently. “The pawnbroker saw only the lad with the braid. The general store owner saw only the young lady. I interviewed both men and I agree with the sheriff. Neither of them would aid destitute, penniless transients unless they personally benefited. Take those supposedly false pearls the lad with the braid tried to sell Eddie, the pawnbroker. I believe they were real since it explains why Eddie had his brother Joe sell the young lady her boots, socks, and monthly needs for a huge discount.”</p><p>“But the original report said the pawnshop owner refused to buy stolen pearls,” Dimitri said. “They’re fake, of course.”</p><p>RedHawk gave him a pitying look, while also noting how Dimitri’s face had darkened with fury and the tenseness in his shoulders. Interesting and out of proportion to his roundabout, meandering explanation.</p><p>“Pawnbrokers are known to lie, my lord. The most likely answer is Eddie bought the two pearls and lied so he could keep them. He lied to the sheriff in the hopes that the scruffy teenager had more pearls that he could claim were worthless painted glass beads that he would dispose of.”</p><p>“I think it’s ridiculous that some scruffy teenager stole pea-sized pearls,” Dimitri said coldly.</p><p>“Perhaps so, my lord,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“To continue. I dug up an artist in Weer to sketch the pawnbroker’s description of the lad. The pawnbroker became more cooperative with a bribe but I do not know how accurate his description is since no one else in Weer saw the lad. The general store owner, Joe, examined my poster of Miss Yilanda. He thought that the ragged girl was possibly Miss Yilanda, although clothing and hair were wildly different. I had the artist sketch the ragged girl as described by Joe. I then had the sketch updated with the information Joe’s salesclerk provided. She studied my sketch and was convinced the ragged girl was Miss Yilanda. No one else saw anything. I have a stringer in Weer asking questions and I stopped in Merreth and updated my stringer there. In addition, I had the Weer sheriff hang updated wanted posters from Merreth on up to Eljinn, but this time with Miss Yilanda in the ragged coverall and the lad with the braid on them.”</p><p>He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a drawing. “This is the lad the pawnbroker described. Do you recognize him?”</p><p>Dimitri stared at the sketch of a young man, barely out of his teens, with a scruffy beard, a cluster of beads woven into his hair at his left temple, and a waist-length braid of hair.</p><p>“Possibly,” Dimitri said slowly. “If it’s who I think it is, I only saw him briefly and he’d just been in a fight and lost badly. He’s had time to heal.”</p><p>“Very good,” RedHawk said, while considering everything he’d been learning about Orlov. Rumors about the demesne were becoming … interesting. “Could those two pearls have been real?”</p><p>“No!” Dimitri lied stoutly. “It’s impossible that those pearls are real.”</p><p>“You are telling me everything, my lord?” RedHawk asked again.</p><p>“Yes. What does it matter if those pearls were real or fake?”</p><p>I will kill that bitch when I find her, Dimitri thought in fury. I no longer care that she’s Charlton’s sister. And after that, the sot for putting all of Orlov into this hell.</p><p>“It matters, my lord. I, and the sheriff who knows them, agree on what probably happened. The pawnbroker bought the pearls, knowing them to be real. He gave the lad twenty credits for those pearls which the girl promptly spent at the general store for much-needed boots. Neither he nor his brother lost money on that deal, which they would have if the two pearls were painted glass.”</p><p>“Twenty credits,” Dimitri said, his face gone ashy and his voice hollow. Gone, those two Pearls were gone for good. The rest would soon follow if he didn’t catch Lannie quickly. Twenty credits for two pearls that were worth thousands of credits apiece and backed far more thousands in Orlov debt.</p><p>“Yes, twenty credits. Joe’s salesclerk filled me in on the details that Joe omitted. She got a good look at the young lady when they discussed monthly needs, but she did not see the scruffy lad.”</p><p>Dimitri choked back bile and forced himself to speak smoothly about a question he could honestly answer and would deflect attention away from pearls.</p><p>“That may not matter. I believe the lad with Yilanda is named Fen. I don’t have a last name. He worked at Cardozo’s livery stable near the cathedral. They won’t speak honestly with me because they believe Walter DelFino assaulted Cardozo’s daughter and Fen intervened. I, along with Charlton DelFino, stepped in on Walter’s behalf. You are not Four Hundred. The staff may be truthful with you.”</p><p>“Walter DelFino is a rapist?” RedHawk asked.</p><p>Not a huge surprise, he thought, keeping his expression neutral. The Four Hundred do whatever the hellation they want and they take whatever and whoever they want. It is surprising that Dimitri is revealing Walter DelFino’s true nature. I’ll have to tread carefully or I’ll have problems with them too. Could this be why we haven’t gotten any official support from DelFino?</p><p>“It was a serious misunderstanding,” Dimitri said and bared his teeth. “As a gentleman of the Four Hundred, Walter would naturally not have harmed the young lady.”</p><p>“I stand corrected. Would you fill me in? It may be pertinent.”</p><p>When Dimitri finished, RedHawk said thoughtfully, “yes, I can see why Cardozo won’t speak to you.”</p><p>And why Cardozo and his entire staff will lie to protect Fen, who almost certainly caught Walter DelFino in the act, RedHawk thought. He glanced over to where Mrs. Duckart’s ballgown filled the far wall of the reception area. It was partly visible through the glass door to his office. Even with a room and a door between him and it, the gown demanded his attention.</p><p>“That ballgown Miss Yilanda abandoned may still prove useful. Someone has it and that someone may know more about who works at Cardozo’s livery stable without my having to ask Cardozo himself.”</p><p>RedHawk allowed himself a small smile at Dimitri’s puzzlement. “There are many whores working the area around the cathedral. Those women are on the streets all the time and they see everything. Some of them provide their services to the livery stable staff. I’ll start with <em>them</em> and get a full name for Fen.”</p><p>Once Dimitri Orlov left, RedHawk sat back to think. The rumors he’d been hearing about Orlov all swirled around the Pearls of Orlov. They might, despite being the surety behind the millions of credits Orlov borrowed, be fake. Or they might be real. Or some of them might be real and some of them might be fake. But any way he looked at it, if Yilanda DelFino and a scruffy teenager named Fen were in Weer as it seemed they were, they had sold two real pearls. Not fake, because no pawnbroker would ever pay out twenty credits for two glass beads.</p><p>Those pearls came from somewhere and Orlov was known for pearls. Dimitri’s reaction indicated … something. Possibly, a lead to the truth that he and the daimyo of Orlov were hiding from him and Parminder Investigations. It was also a reminder to tell Mr. Parminder to demand payment for the investigations already done. Just in case.</p><hr/><p>Ulla paced in irritation around the afternoon room in the DelFino townhouse.</p><p>“The daimyo will not let me go to HighTower, damn him,” she said.</p><p>“Believe it or not, I can understand his reasons,” Charlton said from his position in front of the opened glass cabinet. “We don’t know if Lannie is still with Fen HighTower, if that’s his correct name. We don’t know if they’re going there. We don’t know if Lannie is still alive. I think Zachery would prefer to avoid having a second daughter of DelFino disappear under mysterious circumstances. It might get in the way of his reelection.”</p><p>“This is so frustrating,” Ulla said and began gnawing on another fingernail.</p><p>“Start writing letters,” Iolanthe commanded, looking up from her stationery. “I’m asking all my penpals for introductions to anyone they know in the Ennaretee. I suggest you do the same.”</p><p>“I could, but that will take forever,” Ulla said.</p><p>Charlton glared at the ceiling before speaking, having finished rearranging all the ornaments in the glass cabinet.</p><p>“Yeah, Ulla, it will take time, but Iolanthe and I talked. Look how long it took for Lannie to reach Merreth with that Fen character and then to reach Weer. If they’ve got one horse, it makes sense. They still have to walk most of the time. Ranaglia is weeks away and after Fen drops off Lannie, HighTower is months more travel time.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ulla said. “Right. I should have thought of that at once.”</p><p>Iolanthe looked up again. “Why? I didn’t.”</p><p>“I know horses and I should have realized,” Ulla said, chagrinned. “They’re not Olde Earthe clockwork automatons. If he’s any kind of a horseman, he’s taking care of his main asset.”</p><p>“I have so much to learn,” Iolanthe murmured. “Akins wrote just before we left for Barsoom. He may have found me a filly and then, well, I won’t be so ignorant about horses.”</p><p>“Did he really? That was quick,” Ulla said.</p><p>“Yes, so he said.” Iolanthe stretched out her cramped fingers. “But getting back to the subject at hand. There’s very little overlap between my penpals and yours, so start writing to everyone.”</p><p>“Yes, Iolanthe,” Ulla said dutifully while wondering if she dared defy the daimyo, buy train tickets and head into the unknown. She still had some of her saved-up quarterly allowances left. Lannie had leaped into the unknown when she’d run from the cathedral and it had worked out. Sort of. Except how it ended remained to be seen. Fen, whoever he was, knew Lannie had two pearls. He didn’t know if she had more. What would happen when he found out? And when he discovered who Lannie really was? Lannie might never make it to Ranaglia. Or HighTower, unlikely as that was. But if she did, Charlton was also correct. It would take months for two people with just one horse. That was enough time to spread the word via her own network and possibly receive accurate news back. News that would tell them who Fen HighTower was, his character and circumstances, and if he was communicating with the ruling family as he traveled north.</p><p>She sat down and said, “Pass me some of that stationery, please.”</p><hr/><p>Cleaning up in the stream had been chilly and welcome and strange.</p><p>After watering the horses, Fen had not objected when Lannie moved upstream around the bend to bathe and wash her coverall. He was so thoughtful, Lannie thought. The privacy had also given her a chance to empty her pockets, properly rinse out the coverall, and while it was drying, inventory the Pearls of Orlov.</p><p>It was worrying. The Pearls mesmerized her, heaped on the shore of the stream as she quickly bathed herself and scrubbed her coverall free of blood, dirt and ash.</p><p>She’d been nearly raped and murdered, Fen had slaughtered the bandits, she’d stripped the dead bodies of everything valuable, and they’d ridden away on stolen horses and all she could think about was the Pearls glimmering in the sunlight at the water’s edge; the beauty of clouds, snow, the plumage of swans, stars, and moonlight all paled into insignificance before the glory of the Pearls.</p><p>It wasn’t normal.</p><p>Fen called for her and his voice broke the spell. She forced herself to stuff the Pearls into her pockets instead of staring at them until the sun sank into the west. But Fen would come looking for her soon if she didn’t answer and there might be other bandits roaming the steppes. They had to move.</p><hr/><p>Fen stripped and scrubbed while thinking about what Lannie looked like, nude and in the stream. The water wasn’t cold enough. She was just around the bend. Beautiful, sweet, brave Lannie who had the presence of mind to throw ashes and dirt at the bandits, which was probably why they were alive right now. Dying as they were, and he’d injured them enough that they would have died soon, they would have killed him too, except Lannie had blinded them instead of panicking.</p><p>He couldn’t get the image of her long, dark, wet hair arrayed around her naked body out of his head so he quit trying and took care of his own needs and when he was finished and clean and dressed again in his damp but no longer bloody clothes, he called for her and she answered.</p><p>She had told those bandits she had a boyfriend. She was probably trying to protect herself but maybe, perhaps, she saw him as someone other than the man who’d gotten her out of Barsoom. Maybe sweet Lannie with her big brown eyes saw him and liked him.</p><p>Lannie, like everyone else he’d met since he’d left home, did not think of him as the runt of the litter. She saw him. And he was beginning to accept that she liked what she saw. Maybe.</p><p>But now wasn’t the time. Reg and Killem might have partners somewhere, other bandits who would come looking for them. They had to move on towards Eljinn. In Eljinn, they could buy supplies for the trek northwards.</p><p>Or should they go around Eljinn? He turned to study the three horses, hobbled nearby by, grazing and getting to know each other.</p><p>Coppertail, while eye-catching, was anonymous. The chestnut gelding with the black stockings was a handsome horse but not unusual. The problem was the dapple-gray mare with her long milky stockings and her black mane and tail. She looked like no horse he had ever seen. She was unique. Anyone who saw her would recognize her instantly and wonder where Reg and Killem were. If they avoided Eljinn, circling widely around the free-city on the steppes, they would remain anonymous. He and Lannie could wait until they reached a much further north free-city for equipment. Past the 15° Latitude Corridor, they’d be far enough away that even though the mare would be noticed by everyone they passed, no one would know who she had once belonged to. Or perhaps the 20° Latitude Corridor to be sure.</p><p>Unlike the chestnut, she was unbranded, which was also unusual. He’d fix that as soon as he got the mare to HighTower. Wouldn’t his family be astonished when he returned home having done everything he’d promised and brought with him Lannie, more booty, another gelding for his own holdings, and the dapple-gray mare. She’d bear wonderful foals. He wrenched his attention back to the worrisome present. He had to get home before considering which of HighTower’s stallions he would breed the mare with.</p><p>He could not forget the fact that the sheriff of Weer had dispatched wanted posters about him, another reason to avoid notice. Those posters might be sent as far north as Eljinn, but it was unlikely they’d go past it. Luckily, they didn’t include sketches, only written descriptions.</p><p>With three horses, they’d be traveling fast and would soon be far away.</p><p>Fen waved to Lannie as she came trotting down the narrow stream’s edge. She would agree, he thought. She didn’t want to be found by DelFino or Orlov, the vicious bastards, especially having stolen those ten pearls.</p><p>“I was thinking,” he said as she met him with a smile. “We should bypass Eljinn. We got the bandits’ supplies and the weather’s good, and once past DelFino’s northern borders, we can buy supplies for you.”</p><p>Lannie thought quickly. Orlov was looking for her, even if they didn’t know about Fen. Eljinn was a logical place to stop because of its size so Orlov would have the place plastered with wanted posters.</p><p>“What a great idea,” she said. “How close are we?”</p><p>“With these horses? We’ll be at the free-city the day after tomorrow.”</p><p>They set off, leaving the stream behind along with the pearl ring Lannie had dropped in the sand at the water’s edge. It glowed and shimmered and waited to be found.</p><hr/><p>“A reasonably clean bill of health, Iolanthe,” Ottilie said as she perused the doctor’s report. She looked over at Iolanthe, comfortable on the settee in the drawing room. “You should, assuming Charlton is capable of doing his part, be able to safely bear children.”</p><p>“Yes, so my doctor in Nourz said,” Iolanthe replied.</p><p>“However, the doctors and I agree. You’ll need to travel to DelFino Castle when your time comes, or better, to Barsoom. Just in case.”</p><p>“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“Stand up, girl, so I can look at you” Ottilie demanded. When Iolanthe unwillingly stood, using her cane for support like always, Ottilie walked around her like she was inspecting a cow she was hesitant to buy.</p><p>“Ottilie, you don’t talk to my wife like that,” Charlton said, also on his feet and moving menacingly towards the matchmaker of DelFino.</p><p>“Sit down, Charlton, and shut up,” Ottilie commanded in a voice that left no option other than to obey. “I am looking out for both of your best interests.” She returned her eyes to Iolanthe’s twisted hip and how her feet did not line up quite straight.</p><p>“I read that report carefully. I also had a dear friend die in childbirth. It does happen and it is more likely to happen when one is on an isolated estate as Ruth was. I will not permit you or Charlton to take that risk.”</p><p>“It’s not that risky,” Charlton began.</p><p>“You know nothing of obstetrics, Charlton, other than the bare minimum of how it applies to livestock. It can be risky.” Ottilie’s gaze drifted to Iolanthe’s hip before boring into Charlton’s eyes. “Childbirth can also be excruciatingly painful. Do you wish to watch while your wife screams in agony for days? Come to DelFino Castle when you near Iolanthe’s time. Two months in advance should do it, thus allowing you time to travel from the middle of nowhere to civilization.”</p><p>“Very thoughtful of you, Lady Ottilie,” Iolanthe said. She wasn’t hurting and could have stood without the cane. Ottilie had also arranged for her to see the acupuncturist and arrangements had been made to request her medical records from Nourz. “We will do that.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“What about me?” Naomi asked, pouting from the sofa she was lounging on. She was artistically posed with her gauzy dress spread out to form the most fetching image.</p><p>“What about you?” Ottilie answered. “You’re in the pink of health. Why, your doctor’s report insisted that you could most easily give birth to any number of children. In fact,” Ottilie pursed her lips in a reptilian smile, “the pangs of childbirth may not come as a surprise.”</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean,” Naomi spat, angry enough to sit up and spoil her pose.</p><p>“That you’re in outstanding physical condition, Naomi,” Iolanthe chirped. “Lady Ottilie is saying that you’re so healthy you won’t suffer a bit. Unlike me, say.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ottilie said and permitted a tiny but genuine smile to cross her lips. “Quite right. I shall miss you when you and Charlton travel back to his estates.”</p><p>“And I you,” Iolanthe said and smiled as if she meant it. During the several days of appointments, Ottilie had extracted every particle of information she knew about not just Naomi and the entire Khan family, but everyone else she knew. Ottilie’s knowledge of the Four Hundred, while not encyclopedic, was impressive and she always wanted to know more.</p><p>Ottilie preened. “As a reward for being so cooperative, unlike some members of the family who shall remain nameless, I will persuade the daimyo to allow you and Charlton one stop on your journey home. I recommend Merreth as dear Ulla can go with you and show you the sights of that quaint little village.”</p><hr/><p>“I will continue to study your proposal, Charlton,” Zachery said. “Expect detailed questions from me. I want you and Jorge to continue the recovery processes of your estates. Safe journeys for you, Iolanthe, and Ulla, first to Merreth and thence home.”</p><p>“Yes, sir, my lord daimyo and thank you,” Charlton said. He bowed and the daimyo left, his duty to this branch of the family done.</p><p>“Iolanthe,” Walter said. “Akins wrote to me about that filly. If she is what he hopes she is, I’ll come to your estate with him and your wedding gift when she’s ready.”</p><p>“You gave a cripple a horse as a wedding gift?” Naomi asked with a curl of her lip.</p><p>Walter turned to his new bride and smiled thinly. “As I told you earlier, dear Naomi, Akins understands what Iolanthe needs. He will ensure she has the correct mount, train the mare, and teach Iolanthe to ride her safely.”</p><p>“I truly appreciate it, Walter,” Iolanthe said with a dazzling smile.</p><p>“We both do,” Charlton added.</p><p>“I’ll be visiting soon, with dear Naomi,” Walter said. “I must inspect the lands you think I should settle in person. That way I can make my own case to the council for settlement.”</p><p>“I’m not traveling out to the back of beyond,” Naomi protested. “Not until you’ve built me a proper manor house.”</p><p>“Do you want land for ourselves and our children or not?” Walter asked in his silkiest voice. “I know it will take years of effort but if <em>we</em> don’t do this together from the start, <em>you</em> will ensure we remain third-tier or less in DelFino. Despite my father being the daimyo. I need <em>your</em> support, my dear wife, to succeed. Your dowry might keep us in some comfort but not our children or our grandchildren. Both of us need to demonstrate to the council that we are willing to do the hard work of settling virgin land.”</p><p>Naomi pouted and frowned.</p><p>“It’ll take a lot of money, Walter. Over and above what Naomi’s dowry will provide,” Charlton said.</p><p>“I know.” Walter paused. “I have savings. Despite what others say, I do not spend every penny of my quarterlies.” And I have the pearl bracelet I stole from Lannie at the cathedral, he thought. It’s worth tens of thousands of credits. Naomi doesn’t deserve even the clasp of this bracelet, but our children will. And — the thought was shaming and painful — there were a few other women who each deserved a pearl from the bracelet as restitution.</p><p>“Naomi will be granted serf families from Khan but I doubt they’ll send you more than a few dozen people,” Charlton said. “You’ll need more manpower than that.”</p><p>“True enough and I’m already planning on how to approach the council on that subject as well.”</p><p>“Good to know,” Charlton said. “I don’t like you, Walter. I don’t like what you were planning for Lannie.”</p><p>“I would never hurt Lannie.”</p><p>“Sure.” Charlton sighed heavily. “But of everyone in DelFino who doesn’t hold land, you’re the best candidate by far.”</p><p>“My father wanted me to be prepared, just in case the chance arose.”</p><p>“Zachery is wise.” Yep, Charlton thought. If I’d disobeyed and gone to Merreth on my own weeks ago, you and Naomi would be setting up housekeeping right now in my house while Iolanthe, mama, and I would be on our way to Ranaglia, begging for sanctuary.</p><p>“My father can be.” Walter cast a sideways glance at Naomi, openly bored again and studying her reflection in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair, posing and primping. Even when sulky and resentful, she was physically the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.</p><p>“I spoke with Cardozo at the livery stables,” Charlton said. “You swore that no harm would come to him or his in any way and so far, you’ve kept your word. Will you continue to do so?”</p><p>Walter sneered at Charlton. “You think like a low-caste thug, Charlton. I gave my word and I will keep it. I am a gentleman of DelFino.”</p><p>“Like my dad?”</p><p>“I am nothing like your worthless father,” Walter said heatedly. “I am nothing like the Keerkehgards who you beat into submission. I am nothing like that sot, Rastislav. I will honor my word and I will do what is right for DelFino, no matter what it costs me.” And I am nothing like my father, he thought, not caring what my choices will cost other people, even if they are right for DelFino. I will make restitution for my past actions.</p><p>“Because you <em>are</em> a gentleman, Walter,” Iolanthe interrupted. She rose and stepped forward to take his hands and noticed that he did not flinch or hesitate to touch her twisted left hand. His own hands around hers were as gentle as Charlton’s hands. “I expect nothing less and, after our meeting in the cathedral” — Walter openly winced — “you have been so gracious to me and I thank you for it.”</p><p>“I was very wrong in what I said to you then, my Iolanthe,” Walter said, gazing into her luminous brown eyes, keeping her hands clasped in his. “Wrong in so many ways.”</p><p>“Charlton, stop trying to look menacing,” he added. “I have no designs on your wife, delightful and charming though she is. I am, as you know, a connoisseur of beauty. There are many kinds of beauty and Iolanthe has repeatedly shown me great beauty of character and personality.”</p><p>“Iolanthe is plain and lame, Walter. I know you have eyes,” Naomi said, her attention distracted from her own reflection.</p><p>“Beauty of character is not the same as beauty of skin, dear Naomi,” Walter said. He did not bother looking at his wife as he spoke, keeping his eyes on Iolanthe’s face. “It’s rarer and altogether more valuable. You are a fortunate man, Charlton. You made the correct choice with your wife.”</p><p>He let go of Iolanthe’s hands, bowed deeply, took an angry Naomi’s arm and led her from the room.</p><p>“I think he means it,” Ulla said from her seat, where she’d been watching. “I thought Walter didn’t hear a word I said.”</p><p>“You talked to him about character?” Charlton asked.</p><p>“After your fight with the Keerkehgard boys. I told him how he wasn’t any better than your dad or those others.” Ulla smiled broadly. “He listened.”</p><p>“We’ll see,” Charlton said sourly. “If Walter never goes after another teenager and doesn’t harm Cardozo’s livery stables, then yeah, I might agree.”</p><p>“He has been nothing but charming and polite to me since we came back from the justice of the peace, my darling,” Iolanthe said. “But getting back to more important subjects. Ulla, what will you do when we leave Merreth and go home and you return to Barsoom?”</p><p>Ulla looked over at Mrs. Duckart’s ballgown, arranged on a stand in the corner. “I’m going to find out who has Lannie’s dress. They must have spoken with Lannie. She might have said something about her plans, in case she isn’t with Fen HighTower. He might drop her off in Ranaglia, you know, since it’s on the way to HighTower. And it’s a loose end and I don’t like loose ends because I trip over them.”</p><hr/><p>“So you’re Charlton DelFino?” Jennet asked warily. Ulla DelFino had introduced him to her and he didn’t look much like the raggedy girl. He also didn’t look like her idea of a DelFino prince, looking more like a burly blacksmith or a thug, although a well-dressed one.</p><p>“Yes, Miss Quispe,” he replied. “May I introduce my wife, Iolanthe Orlov DelFino.”</p><p>“Orlov,” Jennet said with a scowl. She took an involuntary step back, deeper behind the protective barrier the counter in the waystation post office provided. “Not related to that horrible Dimitri Orlov who threatened me?”</p><p>Iolanthe smiled brightly and reassuringly. “That’s my brother and please, accept my apologies for his ungentlemanly behavior. He’s under an enormous amount of stress.”</p><p>“That doesn’t give him any right to abuse postal employees,” Jennet replied sharply.</p><p>“You are correct, Miss Quispe,” Iolanthe said. “It does not.”</p><p>“I know you’re busy at work, Miss Quispe,” Charlton said. “I’d like to take you out to dinner so we can talk more privately. Where do you recommend?”</p><p>Jennet thought quickly. There was no point in hiding. Wherever they went in Merreth, someone would see them and the news that she’d been talking to some DelFino ristos would race all over town within minutes. And he offered to pay so why eat at the Hot Cuppa? Merreth had a far classier restaurant, one she had never set foot in. It would also be more private.</p><p>“I close the post office at sunset. I can meet you at the Red Sands Inn an hour later.”</p><p>“That would be acceptable, Miss Quispe,” Charlton said.</p><p>After they left, Jennet touched the beautiful pearl ring, concealed under her uniform. No one knew and no one would ever know if she had anything to say about it. Should she have asked to bring her fiancé? No, no need to involve Manco. That way, she wouldn’t have to answer any of his unwanted questions that might come up later. He’d get the story she wanted him to hear.</p><hr/><p>“Dimitri must have been <em>awful</em>,” Iolanthe said once they were outside the Merreth waystation post office.</p><p>“Told you,” Ulla replied. “He’ll murder Lannie if he finds her first.”</p><p>“Yeah, I think you’re right,” Charlton said despairingly. “Jennet Quispe was afraid of him. You could see it in her eyes.”</p><p>“That cannot be my brother,” Iolanthe protested. She was near tears.</p><p>Ulla wrapped a consoling arm around her. “Yes, it can. But I think when this is all over and we’ve rescued Lannie and he’s gotten the Pearls back to Orlov, he’ll turn back into his normal dimwitted self.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. She chose to betray your trust as hurtfully as possible.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Iolanthe and Charlton waved goodbye to Ulla at the Merreth train station and boarded their first-class carriage for the journey to Eljinn and thence on to Telduv and home.</p><p>“Jennet didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know,” Charlton said as soon as the compartment door was closed and they had privacy again. “But she confirmed what she wrote to Ulla and she knows I will protect her. If I can. Wish she’d seen this Fen character.”</p><p>“I know,” Iolanthe replied. She was still fretting over what Jennet had said about Dimitri and how only the intervention of the Martian Postal Inspector and threats of lawsuits had kept him at bay. According to Jennet, not even the private investigator, John RedHawk, had been able to hold him back although RedHawk had tried.</p><p>“Charlton, I am beginning to think I do not know my own brother,” she said. Perhaps Jennet had exaggerated.</p><p>“You know one side of him,” Charlton said reluctantly. “I’ve seen the other, one he takes great care not to reveal to you or your father or anyone else in Orlov. He’s furious about what’s happened to Orlov and he hates the sot more than he hates Olde Earthe.”</p><p>Iolanthe sat back in consternation. “Dimitri has never said anything of that nature.”</p><p>“Because he doesn’t want to give the sot a reason to harm you, your father or your young cousins. I knew what the sot did to your mother and your unborn brother. Dimitri has hated the sot since that moment, but he swallowed his rage to keep you safe.”</p><p>“Dear Gods,” Iolanthe murmured. “I had no idea. I understand why Ulla is insisting that we must find Lannie first. Because of the sot’s foolishness, Lannie was able to steal the Pearls. Her action made the situation in Orlov even more desperate. I wish we knew why Walter encouraged her to mail that pornographic letter to the sot, the one that asked him to bring the Pearls to Barsoom because he wouldn’t have done it otherwise. That may be important too.”</p><p>She turned frightened eyes to Charlton and said “Ulla was right. Dimitri will punish Lannie for making things worse.”</p><p>“I can guess why,” Charlton said fiercely. “The bastard. I’m sure of it, just like I’m sure Walter was going to take advantage of my sister after he got her out of the cathedral. He was planning to steal the Pearls because why else would he have told her to ask for them? I have to work with him to save my peasants because we’ve got to settle the northeast quadrant of DelFino but I will never forgive him or trust him.”</p><p>“Charlton,” Iolanthe said reluctantly. “I understand. But do bear in mind that Walter would take far better care of Lannie than the sot ever would. He did not know you and Dimitri had a plan and none of you knew that Ulla was trying to save Lannie as well.”</p><p>“You’re defending him?” Charlton shot at her.</p><p>“No. But Walter cared enough to try, something I cannot say for anyone else in DelFino other than you and Ulla. It was badly done and that letter…” She shuddered. “The sot was on fire, talking about Lannie and her eagerness to marry.”</p><p>“What exactly did the letter say? I’m getting the impression you cleaned it up when you told us in Barsoom all those weeks ago.”</p><p>“You’ll kill Walter.”</p><p>“Unfortunately, I can’t,” Charlton said sourly. “I have to keep him alive because he’s the best choice in DelFino. There are other lines, even lines with land and third sons who will never inherit unless they participate in our settlement plan, but those guys.” He shook his head. “It kills me to admit this, but I’d rather have Walter. Zachery did a great job training him.”</p><p>“Don’t kill Walter. This is what I remember,” Iolanthe said and plunged in.</p><p>When she finished, Charlton said, “I will kill Walter.” He punched the air savagely, aiming for the type of abdominal punch that burst kidneys.</p><p>“Please don’t. Ulla and I talked.”</p><p>“She knows?”</p><p>“About Walter’s plans for Lannie? Yes, we discussed it,” Iolanthe sighed. “We had plenty of time in doctor’s waiting rooms. But she would agree. You can’t kill Walter even though he deserves it. Try and remember that Naomi will do a far better job of punishing Walter than you can. You would just grind him into the pavement like you did the Keerkehgard brothers and then break his neck and it would be over. Naomi will torture him for the rest of their lives until he wishes he were dead, like a cat playing with a mouse until the mouse dies of fun except that Walter the mouse can’t escape.”</p><p>Charlton grinned suddenly. “Still want a kitten of your own?”</p><p>She laughed. “Yes, I do. I’m not a mouse so I’m safe.”</p><p>He quit punching the air into submission and sat down next to her on the wide, comfortable seat and pulled her into his lap. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”</p><p>“And you for me,” Iolanthe said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but Jennet wasn’t wearing any pearl jewelry. Yet she did sometimes touch her bosom right below the neckline of her dress.”</p><p>“I don’t notice other women’s bosoms anymore now that I have yours to pay attention to.”</p><p>She giggled. “I think I was right. Lannie sold Jennet a ring to pay for postage to mail you the earrings. She’s wearing the ring on a chain so it can’t be seen but it’s always with her.”</p><p>Iolanthe went still. “If Dimitri discovers that Lannie has sold or given away more Pearls than the two in Weer, he’ll be angrier than ever at her. And at Jennet for having one of the rings.”</p><p>Charlton looked grim. “And at us. We have the earrings, or what’s left of them.”</p><p>“I know,” Iolanthe said. “Orlov should have given me a dowry, but they would never give away a single Pearl. Dimitri won’t accept it. I don’t believe papa or Uncle Ljubo would either. No one in Orlov will.”</p><p>“We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it,” Charlton said gloomily. “The sot shouldn’t have followed that letter’s request. Lannie should have stayed put in that chapel and this mess wouldn’t be happening. And damnation, I can’t let Dimitri kill Walter either.”</p><hr/><p>The day passed swiftly as they rode north, forging a path through the tall grass, parallel to the Corridor road and far enough away to be concealed by low hills.</p><p>“Don’t you worry about leaving a trail behind?” Lannie asked. Earlier, they had stopped to eat mil-rats and give the horses a breather, remounted and continued. The break had been good for her too, allowing her to walk and stretch muscles that weren’t used to hours of riding at this pace. Riding Coppertail at a walk had not been as tiring. Her horsemanship skills were improving (Ulla would be so proud) enough she could turn and look behind her and observe the broken and knocked-over grasses showing exactly where they had been.</p><p>“I can see a trail and if I can see it, I’m sure bandits can.”</p><p>“I know and I don’t like it,” Fen replied. “But we got to get north of Eljinn as quick as possible.” He patted the chestnut gelding’s flank. “These two horses were a gift from my ancestors and I am grateful, but they can’t be seen. I’ve been thinking about Reg and Killem, do they have friends who’ll come looking for them. And worse.”</p><p>He glanced over at Lannie, keeping pace with him on the beautiful dapple-gray mare more easily than she had.</p><p>“That mare is unique. I’m afraid if we travel on the road, people might think we’re Reg and Killem. Every sheriff in every town from Weer to Eljinn must know them. The daimyos in DelFino and Woo must get complaints. The bigger free-cities have police. The Martian government’s got Internal Affairs. Those outlaws must be notorious and not just because of that bag of skin tattoos. Anyone who sees your mare will think we’re them.”</p><p>“Oh, no,” Lannie said, wide-eyed. “But if we aren’t seen —”</p><p>“— we don’t exist,” Fen finished her thought.</p><p>Coppertail snorted and pulled back on his lead. Fen, always alert to what the horses were doing, twisted to see what upset the gelding and gasped.</p><p>His favorite gelding, the horse that wouldn’t quit, was favoring his right front leg.</p><p>Fen reined in the chestnut gelding at once and called, “Lannie, we got to stop.”</p><p>“Already?”</p><p>“Yeah. Something’s wrong with Coppertail.”</p><p>She reined in the dapple-gray mare and waited as Fen dismounted and tossed her the chestnut gelding’s reins. She held the reins tightly, not wanting either horse to know she was anxious about them bolting (despite slowly realizing how even-tempered, almost blasé they were about their surroundings), and watched him crouch in front of the gelding. Coppertail nudged Fen as he gently patted down both legs.</p><p>When Fen looked up at her, his face betrayed him.</p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p>“He’s got some swelling. A small cut got infected. It’s minor, but we got to stop in Eljinn at a livery stable and get liniment and a dose of antifungal for him. If terraformers colonize his blood, he’s dead.”</p><p>“Can that happen?” Lannie asked, knowing uneasily that it could with people and hoping that horses were different.</p><p>“If you don’t take care of it, it might. We got some time, enough time to get to Eljinn.”</p><p>“What do we do?”</p><p>“Go slow and then stop in Eljinn even though I don’t want to,” Fen replied in dismay. He studied the dapple-gray mare with concern. “At least we’ll have time to figure out how to hide these horses in the steppes. We sure can’t ride them into the free-city, yeah?”</p><p>“Someone will recognize the mare,” Lannie said. She didn’t add her worry that someone would see a wanted poster of her, Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino, and the reward Orlov was offering and recognize her.</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen said, thinking of the wanted poster he’d seen, looking for a young man with a long braid of hair who had stolen a few pearls. “Like the sheriff.”</p><hr/><p>“Dunno,” the hard-eyed prostitute said. “I’m new here. You want Winnie and Tevy. They usually work the alley between the cathedral and Cardozo’s livery stable. They know most of the folks in that area.”</p><p>“Do you know where they are?” John RedHawk asked. “I don’t believe I’ve met them yet.”</p><p>“Dunno,” the whore said. She held out her hand again and was duly rewarded with more coin.</p><p>“Anything memories surfacing?” RedHawk asked.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He added another coin, a larger denomination.</p><p>“They went to Burrough’s Park. Tevy likes to watch the swans on the lake.”</p><p>“It’s quite beautiful,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“So they say. Me, I think coin is beautiful.” She held out her hand again and he dutifully added another coin.</p><p>“Pleasure doing business with you,” she said, tucked the coin into her pocket, and ambled down the street.</p><p>He watched her stroll away, flirting with possible clients, and then walked two streets over, to the street where Cardozo’s livery stable was located. The alley was close by. The bend in it concealed the parallel street where the back of the cathedral grounds was located. Yilanda DelFino had to have gone out the back gate, crossed the street, and fled down the alley to its far end. Dimitri was not wrong. Cardozo’s livery stable was the logical destination. He had a name at the livery stable, Fen, and he guessed Miss Yilanda found the man’s coverall and oversized boots in the chapel closet.</p><p>But what had she done with the impossible to miss ballgown? If he could tie up that loose end, he would confirm facts, which were as thin on the ground as the lies were thick. The cathedral priests and maintenance crew had shown him around the cathedral but no one admitted to leaving a coverall or boots in the closet. The bishop had been adamant that only priestly vestments were to be stored in that closet, so RedHawk understood why none of the maintenance crew would admit to using it.</p><p>Everyone at the cathedral had been far more forthcoming about the abortive wedding ceremony. Miss Yilanda, wearing the flashy ballgown, had made an indelible impression with her sobbing and demands, not to mention the rest of the show the DelFinos and Orlovs put on. Two junior priests had even admitted to watching Rastislav Orlov adorn Miss Yilanda with heaps of pearls, glowing like tiny moons in the dim cathedral.</p><p>What had happened to those pearls?</p><p>The consensus was that they had gone back to Orlov. RedHawk had listened to everyone’s story and reached his own conclusion. No one wanted to be accused of theft, even of what had to be fake pearls. The bishop grandly informed him that the fabulous Pearls of Orlov did not leave the demesne and on the rare occasions they did, they were worn only by the daimyah of Orlov and she had armed guards surrounding her. No one else was permitted to wear them. Since Yilanda DelFino was not <em>yet</em> the daimyah, she was not permitted either and thus there were no pearls floating around <em>his</em> cathedral, stolen by his priests or his staff.</p><p>As he stood in the mouth of the alley, watching the flow of traffic on the street and out the back gate of the cathedral’s grounds, RedHawk considered what else he’d recently learned about the Pearls of Orlov. Earlier that morning, he had arranged a meeting with a disaffected young Orlov footman.</p><p>Clancy was very young, very junior in the hierarchy, and considered himself grossly underpaid and hugely overworked. After a lavish breakfast RedHawk paid for along with a hefty bribe, Clancy told him similar facts about the Pearls and then, after schooners of beer to wash breakfast down, admitted that the demesne owned a replica set to be displayed in the ballrooms of Barsoom. The true Pearls, Clancy insisted, would never leave Orlov. They were glorious beyond belief, or so he said, far outshining the replica set which was dazzling in its own right.</p><p>So, RedHawk thought as he walked back down the alley to the trolley stop to get to Burrough’s Park. At least two pearls in this case are real, along with quantities of fake pearls made to wear in Barsoom while the real pearls remained safely sequestered in Orlov. Clancy seemed willing to talk and he’d have to meet him again to learn more. It wasn’t a complete surprise that a footman in Orlov would have no loyalty to his masters or that he would be a budding alcoholic when the daimyo of Orlov set such a bad example. Still, it had been a bit of luck meeting the footman.</p><hr/><p>“Did he believe you?” Dimitri demanded. Matsuda hovered behind him.</p><p>“Yesh, sir, my lord Dimitri,” Clancy answered. “I told him jus’ like me and me father rehearsed. I drank his money and spilled the pearls. If I may go, sir? I’m not ushed to that much beer and at this hour too.” He blinked and swayed.</p><p>“Good work. You are dismissed,” Dimitri said. “Go sleep it off.”</p><p>As the young man staggered away, he turned to Matsuda.</p><p>“An excellent idea,” he said.</p><p>“Thank you, my lord,” Matsuda replied. “I got the idea from that rotted ham. I thought Mr. RedHawk would believe that little bit of playacting, particularly since it lined up with what you told me about his prying and what I have seen for myself.”</p><p>Dimitri began pacing the quiet library. The ham was rehearsing in his room again, another idiotic play he claimed dated back to hundreds of years prior to space travel. The sot had gone out the previous evening, where he would not say, and had returned in a screaming fury. He was sleeping off another bender. <em>His</em> capacity for alcohol was bottomless and waiting for his liver to fail was turning out to be a waste of time.</p><p>“Have your son keep an eye out for RedHawk. He’ll be sure to ask more questions and we need to be ready.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord. And, if I may, have you decided on what to do about that other matter I asked you to consider?”</p><p>“The time is not yet right, Matsuda. But soon.” Dimitri punched one fist into his other palm and his face was a mask of fury. “Very soon, I hope.”</p><hr/><p>“I must confess something, my darling,” Iolanthe said, clinging to Charlton’s arm and her cane while they waited for a porter and the mob swirled around them. They were changing trains at Eljinn and would continue on to Telduv.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Whenever I was at a window on the trip north, I searched the foot traffic on the road for Lannie.”</p><p>“So did I,” Charlton admitted. He sighed and looked around. “I never saw her, if she’s on the way to Eljinn. But where else can she go but further north? Woo is to the west and she won’t go there, DelFino is to the east and she must be afraid to come home, and there’s not much in-between. She must be getting that Fen character to take her to Ranaglia.”</p><p>“You don’t think she might go up to HighTower with him?” Iolanthe asked.</p><p>“No, I thought about it and I just can’t see Lannie going so far from home with a scruffy stranger. They’re one step away from Wildside savagery in the Ennaretee. They live in tents.”</p><p>Iolanthe made noncommittal sounds of agreement while thinking, I have got to find penpals in the Ennaretee. It can’t be that bad and besides, it must be too cold to live in tents year-round.</p><p>The gong sounded.</p><p>“Good. We’re boarding at last,” Charlton said. “Once we’re heading east to Telduv there’s no hope of seeing Lannie. I doubt we’ll see anyone we know besides Susan and Terrence.”</p><hr/><p>Rastislav woke from another terrifying dream with yells of fear and drenched in icy sweat. Madame Orlov, his father, and now his grandfather had ranted and screamed at him for his failures. He had to stop drinking to make them go away but after what had happened last night, getting drunk was all he had left.</p><p>He groaned and rolled over, sunlight stabbing his eyes through the gaps in the poorly closed drapes. He could not stop remembering the humiliation. The brothel whore he’d hired had tried, but he had been impotent.</p><p>Soggy noodle limp.</p><p>Overboiled asparagus flaccid.</p><p>Unmanned like a fat capon.</p><p>That bitch, Mrs. Pondicherry, had done this to him. He thought of what she had coaxed him to do during the train trip from Nourz to Barsoom in his private rail car. She had introduced him to deviance and decadence such as he had never dreamed of, pleasures he had no idea existed and as a direct result, he, the stallion of Orlov, could no longer perform like a normal man. Mrs. Pondicherry had ruined him and he could do nothing to her in return. If he sent agents after her, she would tell all of Mars that she had stolen the Pearls of Orlov and they were fake. Worse, she’d then tell all of Mars how she had used him and how he had begged for more.</p><p>There was still no word on the whereabouts of that traitorous Nelly. He would have done to her what Mrs. Pondicherry had done to him and he would have been restored to virility. Or that faithless bitch, Yilanda. Young, lovely, virginal, and pantingly eager to learn. He would drape her with the Pearls, perform as a man should, and father an army of sons.</p><p>But only if that disrespectful Dimitri and that impudent RedHawk located Yilanda and the Pearls. Or that Nelly.</p><p>He reached blindly for the bottle of wine, praying for oblivion and an escape from humiliation.</p><hr/><p>Charlton,” Iolanthe hissed. “It’s her!”</p><p>“Who?” He looked up from his roast capon and took a frantic look around. “Is it Lannie? Here? In the dining car?”</p><p>“No, no, not Lannie. It’s Mrs. Pondicherry!”</p><p>“On the line to Telduv?”</p><p>“I doubt if she’s going to get off the train in Telduv,” Iolanthe said. “I didn’t see much of that free-city, but I think she prefers something more sophisticated.”</p><p>Charlton grinned at her. “Sophisticated. I need to meet this woman.”</p><p>Iolanthe lifted herself enough to stare discreetly over his shoulder. “I think she travels a lot. She may be able to watch for Lannie!”</p><p>“She doesn’t know what Lannie looks like,” Charlton said.</p><p>“We’ll give her copies of Mr. RedHawk’s poster where her hair is in braids and she’s wearing the ragged coverall. We’ve got plenty left. We can spare some for Mrs. Pondicherry.”</p><p>“Good idea.” Charlton paused. “Do you want to ask her about that Nelly?”</p><p>“Gleesh,” Iolanthe said. “That slyboots. I don’t know. I should. She was a liar and a thief but even so, terrible things can happen to young women who are alone.”</p><p>“I’ll ask her to join us. Wait here.” Charlton stood, kissed Iolanthe soundly, and strode off down the passageway in the dining car to the far end.</p><p>He kissed her, Iolanthe thought and remembered the train journey from Nourz when she wondered if he or any man would ever want her. Charlton did. He told her she was beautiful and he kissed her in public because he was not ashamed to be seen with her. He was proud of her.</p><p>She watched him lean over Mrs. Pondicherry at her table where she sat alone, although not ignored. As always, Mrs. Pondicherry dressed to attract notice and every male in the dining car over the age of twelve was discreetly taking peeks at her bare shoulders and daringly exposed bosom. Her fringed neckline swayed with every breath and movement, making sure an observer had to work to keep his eyes on her face and not drift lower down.</p><p>Mrs. Pondicherry listened to Charlton, her facial expressions changing with lighting speed. Then she nodded and rose gracefully, allowing him to assist her with her chair, and she swayed down the aisle far more than the movement of the dining car itself made necessary. Charlton followed behind her. He caught Iolanthe’s eye and winked.</p><p>Mrs. Pondicherry took the seat next the Iolanthe and said, “My dear Miss Iolanthe, so nice to see you again.”</p><p>They exchanged pleasantries about train travel and the esthetics of cloud formations while they waited for Mrs. Pondicherry’s dinner to be delivered to the new table with aplomb by the white-gloved waiter.</p><p>Once they would — presumably — not be interrupted, Iolanthe said, “I must confess, Mrs. Pondicherry, to an ulterior motive.”</p><p>“Really, my dear?” Mrs. Pondicherry asked. She took a dainty sip of her soup and then a nibble of her muffin. “Do tell me everything.”</p><p>Iolanthe plunged into the story of Lannie disappearing, Charlton adding any missed details. To her great relief, Mrs. Pondicherry did not turn her meal into a lewd performance as she had when dining with the sot.</p><p>When Iolanthe finished, Mrs. Pondicherry said, “how astonishing. I read the story in the columns, of course. It was quite dramatic. Your sister-in-law is eighteen years old, you said?”</p><p>“That very day,” Charlton answered.</p><p>“I understand her reasons,” Mrs. Pondicherry stated. “The daimyo of Orlov” — she smiled coyly and batted her eyes — “is not the man for an innocent young girl. She deserves someone her own age.”</p><p>“Have you heard or seen of her?” Charlton asked.</p><p>“Sadly, I have not. I will take a copy of the poster to keep her image in mind just in case I run across her.”</p><p>“You have our greatest thanks,” Iolanthe said. “We’ve been desperate to find Lannie. Terrible things can happen to lost young women in this world.”</p><p>Mrs. Pondicherry looked grim for such a fleeting instant that Iolanthe was unsure she’d seen the expression.</p><p>“That is true. Lannie is a stray lamb and she will be beset by wolves.”</p><p>“There is another lost young woman,” Charlton prompted.</p><p>“Oh?”</p><p>“Yes, Mrs. Pondicherry,” Iolanthe said. “You may recall my maid, Nelly? She was to accompany me to DelFino.”</p><p>“That sounds like she did not,” Mrs. Pondicherry said. “Do explain further.”</p><p>Iolanthe plunged into the story, humiliated again by how Nelly had lied and lied while she had trusted what Nelly said, despite how the other servants of Orlov had all told her to never trust that slyboots.</p><p>“That was disgraceful behavior on Nelly’s part,” Mrs. Pondicherry said with open disapproval. To Iolanthe’s surprise, she pursed her lips almost exactly the same as Lady Ottilie did. Perhaps these two very different women took the same lessons in facial expressions.</p><p>“Yet you are concerned about her. May I ask why?”</p><p>Iolanthe sighed. “I feel responsible for Nelly. Yes, she betrayed me. But if I had not brought her with me as my maid, she would have remained home in Orlov. Since Lannie jilted him, the sot — that’s what we call him when he’s not around (Mrs. Pondicherry looked amused and unsurprised) — has not returned to the demesne. Nelly might have been unhappy there, but she was safe, fed, secure, and had work. She disappeared near Gloddin and she could be anywhere. We’ve been warned about slavers which I did not know existed!”</p><p>“Personally,” Charlton interjected, “I don’t feel sorry for that Nelly and if she met slavers, she deserved it.”</p><p>“She had the most delicate hand with a needle,” Iolanthe remembered. “Her mending was exquisite.”</p><p>“Fine sewing does not excuse what she did to you, Miss Iolanthe,” Mrs. Pondicherry said.</p><p>“I know. The situations do not exactly parallel. Lannie ran away in terror and we don’t know where she is. Nelly ran away after stealing my mother’s jewelry and destroying my garments and we don’t know where she is.” Lannie was a thief too, Iolanthe thought. But we don’t admit that part.</p><p><a id="_Hlk54105082" name="_Hlk54105082"></a>“They do not parallel at all,” Mrs. Pondicherry said firmly. “As a modest young girl, Lannie was quite naturally terrified by Rastislav and the thought of his demands. That Nelly, on the other hand, did not have to steal from you or destroy your garments. She could have simply disappeared. Instead, she chose to betray your trust as hurtfully as possible.”</p><p>“You are correct, Mrs. Pondicherry,” Iolanthe said. “Yet I think of her suffering, like Lannie must be suffering and I can’t bear it.”</p><p>“You have a soft and generous heart, Miss Iolanthe,” Mrs. Pondicherry said. She patted Iolanthe’s twisted left hand without a flicker of hesitation. “It does you credit.”</p><p>“You seem an experienced traveler on the railways,” Charlton said. “What do you suppose happened to that Nelly?”</p><p>“I have no idea,” Mrs. Pondicherry replied. “I would assume, however, that slyboots like Nelly get what they deserve in the end. Their nature makes them impossible to trust.”</p><p>“This is true,” Iolanthe said sadly. “I tried to help her and I failed.”</p><p>“Look at it this way, my dear,” Mrs. Pondicherry said. “Perhaps her needle skills will come to her aid.”</p><p>Iolanthe giggled. “Perhaps, but I don’t remember her saying she enjoyed sewing, despite the delicacy of her stitching.”</p><p>“Would you join us for dessert, Mrs. Pondicherry?” Charlton grinned wickedly at Iolanthe. “Bananas flambé perhaps? I understand it’s very good.”</p><p>Mrs. Pondicherry laughed merrily, drawing attention from all the males around her. “I think the sorbet is better in this heat.”</p><p>When Mrs. Pondicherry left them after dessert and the exchange of cards, Charlton said, “she has a remarkable bosom but I like yours better.”</p><p>Iolanthe glanced down. “I don’t display mine like Mrs. Pondicherry does.”</p><p>“Because you aren’t trolling for customers,” Charlton replied. “Did you see the back of her dress? You can see bare skin almost to her waist!”</p><hr/><p>An interlude, many weeks later.</p><p>“Hey! Nelly. Supervisor wants you,” the overseer yelled.</p><p>Nelly straightened up from hoeing between the rows and rows and rows of yams. She was already soaked with sweat, despite the early hour. The day started at dawn at Woo Plantation Number Seven and like always, it was hot. The heat was making her nauseous. She told herself that rather than think of the real reason for her nausea. Rain would be welcome but the rainiest part of the season had already passed by.</p><p>She didn’t dare ask why the supervisor wanted her, but she was afraid she knew the answer. The other women around her knew the answer too, but none of them showed her any sympathy. She’d stupidly bragged and raged and screamed when she’d arrived. Then, in an effort to curry favor with the overseer and the supervisor, she’d been even more stupid and ratted out the other women when one made a mistake or misbehaved.</p><p>No one would help her anymore.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Nelly said, head downcast and keeping her eyes firmly fixed on her feet. She’d quickly learned that any sign of insubordination was rewarded with immediate punishment. She found herself thinking longingly of Orlov and the sot.</p><p>She followed the overseer, shoulders hunched over for the blows she expected. What could the supervisor want? As if she didn’t know. Worse, unlike with the sot, she’d get no special treatment from him in exchange for the intimacies.</p><p>At least it was cooler inside the office. She stood in front of the desk and waited patiently, head downcast and hands folded before her.</p><p>“You’re learning, Nelly,” the supervisor said.</p><p>“Yes, sir.” She knew his name but she didn’t dare say it.</p><p>“Got a message about you.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“We were told you were a dab hand with a needle.”</p><p>She couldn’t stop herself and blurted out, “I told you I could sew when I got here. Sir.” Nelly wished she could bite off her tongue for speaking out of turn.</p><p>The supervisor got up from behind his desk and backhanded her, making her head ring.</p><p>“Still smart-mouthed, Nelly.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“You’re also a lying, traitorous slut so why should anyone here believe anything you say?”</p><p>“No, sir. You shouldn’t,” Nelly answered after a moment of painful thought.</p><p>“Someone trustworthy said you had the skills. If you can prove it, you’ll be off field duty.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir.”</p><p>“Follow me.”</p><p>Oh Gods, she thought. They were going to savage her again. She followed the supervisor out of the office and down the hall into another, smaller room. To her great relief, there was a table heaped with garments in various stages of disrepair.</p><p>“You see that?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Fix them.” The supervisor held up a needle book. “I’ll be counting the needles, pins, and the scissors so no tricks from you.” He strode up to her, lifting her chin roughly and forcing her to stare into his flinty eyes.</p><p>“Unless you want more instructions in how to behave?”</p><p>“No, sir. I’ll get started right away, sir.”</p><p>He handed her the needle book and pointed to the end of the table, where a pair of scissors and spools of thread waited.</p><p>She had to ask. “May I have a thimble, sir? It will make the sewing faster.” She couldn’t stop the timid quaver in her voice and she kept her head down and her eyes firmly on the floor.</p><p>He slapped her again, making her see stars.</p><p>“I’m not wasting money on a thimble for the likes of you. You start sewing and if you prove yourself, then you’ll get a thimble.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Nelly whispered, fighting back tears of pain. The fury she’d had when she’d arrived at Woo Plantation Number Seven had been beaten and raped out of her. Each day was to be endured. This day was better. Even if she didn’t have a thimble and she sewed her fingertips bloody, she was out of the heat of the fields.</p><p>“Better,” the supervisor said. “While you’re sewing, you might want to say a prayer for whoever cared enough about you, you filthy traitorous bint, to tell the right person you knew how to sew.”</p><p>“Yes, sir. I will, sir,” Nelly said. She sank to her haunches, needle in hand picked up the first ripped garment and began to repair the sleeve with delicate, fastidious stitches.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. “Quick, Lesten, he’s going to arrest them.”</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">“We’ll leave the bandits’ horses here, Lannie,” Fen said. He looked around the little dell, a cup nestled in and concealed by the rolling hills. “Can you guess why?”</p><p class="western">Lannie turned around thoughtfully, trying to understand what she was seeing. She would have never noticed or cared before, but no more. Every day she could feel her mind stretching. It would have been exhilarating, except the ever-present physical discomfort made sure she never forgot where she was, where she slept, what she ate, and how she could not escape the weather. All those weeks with Ulla were proving useful again. Ulla always said to watch, to think, to pay attention, to not drift through her days like mama did and Ulla was right.</p><p class="western">“Good grass to eat. A creek so they’ve got water. The hills are high enough so they won’t want to explore when they’re protected and have everything they need. That hill to the north will block the wind. It doesn’t look like anyone will find them because we’re just far enough from the Corridor road.” She paused. “And there doesn’t look like there’s any animals around that might bother them. Like wild dogs.</p><p class="western">“Is that right?” she asked.</p><p class="western">“Yes!” Fen said and beamed at her. “Exactly right. The hobbles will keep them here until we get back.” He wanted to throw his arms around her and kiss her thoroughly. Instead, he firmly told body and mind to pay attention to what was needful instead of what he wanted.</p><p class="western">He gave the chestnut gelding and the dapple-gray mare each a fond pat, and, to Lannie’s surprise, spent several minutes whispering to them in turn.</p><p class="western">When he finished, Fen strode back and said, “we’re ready. Let’s go to Eljinn and find a livery stable and get Coppertail’s cut taken care of.”</p><p class="western">As they walked through the sea of tall grass over the hill — Fen insisted on taking a more roundabout route to better conceal where he had hidden the horses — Lannie thought hard. Fen kept telling her to ask when she didn’t understand. He was a better teacher than Charlton had ever been. But because of Charlton, she had learned not to give up and to keep trying. She would ask.</p><p class="western">“What did you say to the horses?”</p><p class="western">“I asked them to wait here for me. I swore I would come back and take them home to HighTower where they’d have the best grass and the best care and they’d never be mistreated. I told them my name, Fenrick HighTower, and that when we reached home, I’d name them and ask first if it suited them as is right and fitting.”</p><p class="western">“Your name is Fenrick?”</p><p class="western">He nodded. “But I usually go by Fen. Quicker, yeah?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, it is,” Lannie said. I can’t tell you that Lannie is quicker than my real name, Yilanda. Later on, when I’m sure you won’t get mad at me because of who my brother is. When I can ask you why you beat up Walter in that livery stable. When I’m positive you won’t run mad when you see the Pearls of Orlov.</p><p class="western">Better not to think that way, she thought. Better stick to practical stuff.</p><p class="western">“Why did you bring all the gear instead of leaving it behind?”</p><p class="western">“In case the bandits’ horses don’t wait for me like I asked.” Fen chuckled. “You can’t ever forget horses got minds of their own.”</p><p class="western">“Okay,” Lannie said and thought for minute. “And in case someone else finds them before we get back?”</p><p class="western">“Yeah. Most of those travelers in the Corridor don’t know the steppes like I do, but I can’t be sure someone won’t take a mind to go exploring.”</p><p class="western">“Will it take long to get to Eljinn?”</p><p class="western">They had reached the road and merged into the foot and wagon traffic streaming north.</p><p class="western">“Not long, I think,” Fen said. “It’s early in the day and we should be there in about two hours if that last waystation map was correct.”</p><p class="western">That last waystation map had the wanted poster describing him up on its bulletin board, but the rain had made the ink run, so he left it. It was illegible, so not worth the risk of tearing it down. As it was, he’d been noticed by a stranger commenting on both Coppertail and his beads.</p><p class="western">He glanced back at Coppertail, obediently following on his lead. “Coppertail is doing better but getting liniment for him is still the right thing to do.”</p><p class="western">“Because if you don’t take care of your people, livestock, and tools, they can’t take care of you,” Lannie said, suddenly understanding what Ulla, Walter, and even Charlton had been talking about back home.</p><p class="western">“Yeah,” Fen said and beamed at her. “You’ll fit right in at HighTower, already knowing how important that is.”</p><p class="western">He kept casting surreptitious glances at Lannie, striding along on Coppertail’s other side. Did she have a sweetheart somewhere? It didn’t seem that way from what she’d said and how she had behaved. Whatever the daimyo of Orlov had done to her in the cathedral had made her skittish and then those two bandits had tried to rape her. He’d wait, he decided, to tell her how he felt about her. But he wouldn’t wait long. Once they got nearer the Ennaretee, they’d meet other Steppes Riders. Everyone of those men would recognize Lannie as the wonderful, beautiful, amazing girl she was and he wouldn’t stand a chance.</p><hr/><p class="western">“Where to this morning, Miss Ulla?” Lesten asked. She’d returned from Merreth the evening before and if she held true to form, she would want to check with Mr. Parminder’s office, the main police station, the substation near the cathedral, and possibly the Great Hospital morgue. Or she might make the rounds of Miss Lannie’s friends. With the major conclave finished, the members of the Four Hundred in residence in Barsoom were shuffling themselves around so new people arrived who didn’t know the story.</p><p class="western">Miss Ulla might learn something. Unfortunately, it seemed that every time she got closer to finding Lannie, her cousin slipped away like mist burned off by the morning sun.</p><p class="western">“Burroughs Park, Lesten,” Ulla said.</p><p class="western">“Why there, Miss Ulla?” Lesten asked carefully. As far as he knew, she didn’t have an assignation with that uppity Yair Buruk. Silas Avongale was far better suited to Miss Ulla as the frontrunner of his demesne than some low-caste waiter, no matter how helpful he’d been.</p><p class="western">“One of the footmen told Natha that he’d been out walking with his girlfriend around the lake and he saw a pair of prostitutes wearing sunny yellow and lizard green satin blouses and then she told me.”</p><p class="western">Lesten sucked in his breath. “Like the satin in that ballgown in the morning room?”</p><p class="western">“Yes,” Ulla said. “It may be related. Street prostitutes don’t wear satin so I want to talk to them. I may finally find out what happened to the ballgown Lannie discarded and that’s one loose end tied off so I won’t trip over it.”</p><p class="western">She settled herself back into the seat and determinedly kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead rather than searching the crowds for signs of Lannie. Or Yair Buruk. Silas had been writing to her, pressing her for an answer. He kept saying he wanted to marry but he didn’t need her to become the daimyo of Avongale. Silas was more than capable enough on his own. As for his loftier political goals, she didn’t see how she would help him other than being a DelFino. She knew her faults; her social skills were poor and while she had an extensive network of penpals, most of them were shy or awkward in some way. He needed an astute observer of people, someone who had an imagination, someone who could be tactful, and someone who understood politics. She didn’t qualify on any of those points.</p><p class="western">She would make a good daimyah. She knew that. But she couldn’t figure out why Silas was so fixated on her. It was flattering because she had eligible cousins in DelFino he could marry if all he wanted was a connection to DelFino. It didn’t make sense. He was so practical and she wasn’t the most practical choice.</p><p class="western">Ulla sighed and set aside her thoughts about Silas. Maybe she was overthinking the situation. They were well-matched, both on paper and in reality. He wanted someone who would care about his people and she would. All she had to do was look at Naomi who would never care about anyone other than herself. Naomi did not care in the slightest about the serfs she was uprooting from Khan and transplanting to DelFino. Those serfs would go a long way to making Walter’s future estate profitable and Naomi gave them and their families as much consideration as she would give to a flock of sheep. Less, really.</p><p class="western">Marrying Silas Avongale made sense and she should accept it and focus on finding Lannie before Dimitri and Mr. RedHawk did.</p><p class="western">“Any particular place in the park, Miss Ulla?” Lesten asked.</p><p class="western">They’d arrived while she was lost in thought. Ulla sat up and stared around. No prostitutes in sunny yellow or lizard green satin or any other color were in view.</p><p class="western">“Are there driving paths within the park?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, Miss Ulla.”</p><p class="western">“Let’s use them, starting from the red roofed pavilion. Burroughs Park seemed well-planned when I was here last so the driving paths should show us most of the park in a short amount of time.”</p><p class="western">The park was surprisingly large. Not surprising, Ulla considered with a groan. It surrounded an ornamental lake and she should have realized how large it was. Lesten took his time, giving her plenty of time to study the other visitors but she didn’t see who she wanted to find.</p><hr/><p class="western">“There, Miss Ulla!” Lesten said and pointed with his coachwhip to a policeman lecturing two young women by a gazebo. One was wearing a sunny yellow satin blouse and the other wore a lizard green satin blouse. Ulla’s heart leaped. She recognized those colors. Even more important, their blouses sparkled in the sun; they’d been adorned with rhinestones. The rhinestones encircled the low, low necklines, making sure any clients knew where to look when they contemplated what they were buying.</p><p class="western">“Quick, Lesten, he’s going to arrest them,” Ulla cried.</p><p class="western">He whipped up the horses and they arrived within minutes. Ulla didn’t hesitate. She vaulted out of the carriage, grateful she didn’t trip, and raced across the grass to the little group.</p><p class="western">“Hey! They’re with me!” she shouted as she neared them. “I’m Ulla Tisdale DelFino!”</p><p class="western">The policeman turned. “Miss DelFino?”</p><p class="western">He groaned inwardly. He had not yet had the dubious pleasure of meeting Ulla DelFino but he’d heard the stories. Lots of stories. Detailed stories. Every policeman who’d met her had a story of their own. She was relentless, driven, focused, and a major irritant as she could not be told to go away or ignored without risking the wrath of DelFino.</p><p class="western">“Yes. They’re with me,” Ulla announced and pointed at the bemused and puzzled prostitutes.</p><p class="western">“Now Miss DelFino, you shouldn’t be talking to the likes of Winnie and Tevy,” the policeman said.</p><p class="western">“I’ll talk to anyone I like,” Ulla said. “I’ve been looking for Winnie and Tevy.”</p><p class="western">“You have?” the policeman asked.</p><p class="western">“You heard her,” the woman in the lizard green satin blouse piped up. “I told you me and Tevy was waiting on someone and here she is. You was taking us to lunch at the café, right Miss DelFino?”</p><p class="western">“Right,” Ulla said stoutly. “Hop in the carriage and we’ll be off.”</p><p class="western">“I’m supposed to arrest these ladies,” the policeman said.</p><p class="western">“No, you are not,” Ulla snapped, punctuating each word with a jabbing fingertip. “They are my friends and you don’t get to arrest my friends and if you have a problem with that, then let’s go on down to police headquarters and discuss it with the captain. He knows me.”</p><p class="western">The policeman stepped safely out of range.</p><p class="western">“I’m sure he does, Miss DelFino.” Yep, she was exactly like the stories he’d been told. A hot blonde harpy who would be writing down his name and badge number within seconds followed by a formal written complaint about how he hadn’t been suitably deferential to a DelFino’s whims.</p><p class="western">He turned back to Winnie and Tevy. “This is your lucky day, ladies. Make the most of it.”</p><p class="western">“Oh, we will, officer,” Winnie said and waved at him as she shepherded Tevy towards the waiting carriage, Ulla right behind them.</p><hr/><p class="western">“Where’s the closest café so Lesten can take us there?” Ulla asked. “I’ve got lots of questions for you. I’m Ulla DelFino, by the way.”</p><p class="western">“We figured that out,” Winnie said.</p><p class="western">“Yeah,” Tevy added. Her blouse was sunny yellow satin with an overlay of bits of torn lace carefully sewn down with the most delicate of stitching.</p><p class="western">Ulla stared at the torn lace and knew that Winnie and Tevy had gotten Lannie’s ballgown when she left the cathedral. When she’d extricated herself from the gown, an action normally requiring the assistance of a lady’s maid, Lannie tore the dress and here was the proof.</p><p class="western">“Why should we talk to you?” Winnie asked. “Not that we’re ungrateful, see. You saved us a fine, but we don’t wanna get mixed up in no demesne business.”</p><p class="western">“No,” Tevy added. Fear washed over her face and she hunched down in the seat as though warding off a blow.</p><p class="western">“Oh,” Ulla said and considered what Mr. RedHawk would do.</p><p class="western">“I know you’re working so I’ll pay you for your time along with whatever you want for lunch.”</p><p class="western">“Not enough,” Winnie said.</p><p class="western">“And boxed dinners for later,” Ulla added.</p><p class="western">“I like that idea, Winnie,” Tevy said. “No mil-rats and we can knock off early.”</p><p class="western">“Wait, Tevy,” Winnie said. She squeezed Tevy’s hand and the other woman fell silent. “You really Ulla DelFino?”</p><p class="western">“Yes, of course, I am,” Ulla replied. “Ulla Tisdale DelFino to be complete.”</p><p class="western">“We might’ve heard about you. Word on the street is you’re looking for your cousin, is that right?”</p><p class="western">“Yes,” Ulla said. “I’m desperate to find Lannie. She ran away from the daimyo of Orlov, that’s Rastislav, and he’s a horrible, abusive excuse of a man who should be knifed by his relatives if they had any spine which they don’t and we don’t know for sure where Lannie went. I have to find my cousin. Please help me.”</p><p class="western">“That must have been weeks ago,” Winnie said. She had the hardest eyes Ulla had ever seen.</p><p class="western">“I know. We think Lannie’s traveling the Corridor road to Ranaglia, her mother’s from there, but we don’t know much about the man we think she’s traveling with, except he worked at Cardozo’s livery stable which is down the alley from the cathedral’s back gate. Do you know Fen HighTower?”</p><p class="western">To Ulla’s surprise, Tevy giggled, a bright, cheerful sound that said, clearer than any words, that she wasn’t much older than Lannie in years even if decades older in experience.</p><p class="western">“Fen was so sweet. I asked him if he wanted to pay for an hour of my time and he didn’t know what I meant and then he did and I thought he was gonna fall through the ground in embarrassment.”</p><p class="western">“Oh,” Ulla said.</p><p class="western">“Yeah,” Winnie added. “Our Fen gets all embarrassed but he was always polite and willing to talk.”</p><p class="western">“Even if he didn’t want more.”</p><p class="western">“Cept I think he did only he wasn’t sure what to do,” Winnie finished up with a coarse laugh.</p><p class="western">“A small-town boy in the big city,” Tevy said. “They still got manners, not like the Barsoom boys.”</p><p class="western">“You’ve got Lannie’s gown. How did you get Lannie’s gown?”</p><p class="western">“Hey, Lesten!” Winnie yelled. “That place there will do for lunch.” She pointed to a sidewalk café; its tables carefully barricaded by planters spilling over with tall red and yellow flowers. Red and white striped umbrellas shaded the tables, matching the red and white striped tablecloths and awnings.</p><p class="western">“They won’t let us in, Winnie,” Tevy said.</p><p class="western">“Yes, they will,” Ulla said. “You’re with me and I’m paying.”</p><p class="western">“We’ll talk when we got food,” Winnie said firmly. “I’m hungry. I can’t talk on an empty stomach.”</p><hr/><p class="western">The maître’ ď balked at Winnie and Tevy’s presence besmirching his café. He realized his mistake the instant he saw Ulla’s face as she arrived right behind them, and spotted the DelFino sigil on her carriage and adorning her tasteful, very expensive clothes. He apologized graciously for his error in judgement and seated them right away, but off to one side and not front and center. Ulla examined the table, loudly pointed out the crumbs scattered on the surface, the wilting zinnia sitting in scummy water in a fingerprint-smeared vase, and the crumpled napkins. He apologized profusely and moved them to the best table, front and center.</p><p class="western">“That’s better,” Ulla said with a frown. “I’ll be inspecting the silverware when it arrives. I expect clean forks, prompt service, and I tip well.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, Miss DelFino,” the maître’ ď said and bowed again.</p><p class="western">Once seated, Winnie said, “You related to Charlton DelFino?”</p><p class="western">“Yes,” Ulla said in surprise. “Do you read the columns?”</p><p class="western">“No. He talked to us weeks ago about his missing sister and paid us for our time.”</p><p class="western">Ulla launched into her story as orders were taken and food brought. When she finished, Winnie and Tevy whispered together. She wanted to eavesdrop and made herself sit still, without gnawing on her fingernails.</p><p class="western">When they finished, Winnie said, “we gots to be sure. You are not giving Lannie back to that rat-bastard Rastislav?”</p><p class="western">“Never,” Ulla stated. “I would feed him, piece by piece, to giant man-eating snakes before I’d hand anyone over to that vicious drunk. Lannie ran from him for darn good reasons, let me tell you.”</p><p class="western">“We know them reasons,” Winnie said. “He beat up Tevy a while back. Couldn’t get it up and he took it out on her.”</p><p class="western">“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Ulla said.</p><p class="western">Winnie leapt to her feet, furiously angry. “Cause Tevy deserved it?”</p><p class="western">“No!” Ulla said. “He’s a vicious drunk and has been for decades and he’s ancient and I don’t see how a permanently drunk geezer can get it up and he’d naturally blame anyone else except himself! That’s the way that damned Orlov daimyo is! Why do you think Lannie ran for it? Because nobody in their right mind or their wrong mind would ever have anything to do with that sot. I’m telling you, the Orlov family should knife him and they should poison the blade to make sure he dies. Sit back down. We’re not done yet.”</p><p class="western">“We got to be sure,” Tevy said in a very small voice. She was hunched over in her seat again.</p><p class="western">“I understand,” Ulla said. “I’ve been talking to all kinds of people all over Barsoom since Lannie vanished and I know you two live a hard life so I really appreciate you talking to me. And yeah, Charlton’s looking for his sister too, but he can’t travel in Barsoom because he’s responsible for over one hundred people, but I can so here I am. Did you see Lannie?”</p><p class="western">She dug into her bag and pulled out coin and stacked it in front of Tevy.</p><p class="western">Winnie reached over, picked up the money and tucked it into a pocket inside the neckline of her blouse.</p><p class="western">“Yeah, we saw her. She’d been crying for days, it looked like, and she give us the dress and asked us not to tell.”</p><p class="western">“Where did she go?” Ulla asked.</p><p class="western">“Dunno. We worked the alley between the cathedral and the livery stable. We told her about the stable and the trolley stop and she hugged us and left.”</p><p class="western">“And she was wearing?”</p><p class="western">“A man’s coverall about ten sizes too big and these big, clumping boots she could hardly walk in,” Winnie said.</p><p class="western">“So we were right,” Ulla murmured. “Thank you so much.”</p><p class="western">“You want that dress back?” Tevy asked timidly. “It’s so beautiful and there was so much cloth and I been ripping it apart. I made our blouses out of it.”</p><p class="western">“No, keep it,” Ulla said. She studied Tevy’s delicate stitching. “Why are you prostitutes? You sew beautifully. The way you reused the torn lace is amazing. I’d never know that you cut up a ballgown to make those blouses and you must have plenty of fabric and trim left.”</p><p class="western">Tevy smiled shyly, openly pleased. “I got plans for the rest of it. I’ve made some other clothes, for work, you know? It is the most beautiful dress I ever saw, like what a princess in a storybook would wear.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, it is that,” Ulla said. “How pretty. You made earrings from some of the rhinestones.”</p><p class="western">“Sold most of them,” Winnie admitted. “Paid a lot of bills.”</p><p class="western">Tevy nodded vigorously. “Shoes too, cause they didn’t fit neither of us.”</p><p class="western">“I’m impressed and I think someone else may be too,” Ulla said. She dug around in her bag and fished out Mrs. Duckart’s business card. “Talk to her. Tell her Ulla DelFino sent you. Show her what you did. Mrs. Duckart might take you on because she told me she’s always looking for good seamstresses.”</p><p class="western">“She won’t take us,” Winnie said sourly. “Cause we’re whores.”</p><p class="western">“Do you know her?” Ulla asked.</p><p class="western">“No, but she won’t hire us.”</p><p class="western">“If she knows I sent you over and vouched for you, she might,” Ulla said. “But you have to show her the very best sewing you’ve done. Did you use a pattern for your blouses?”</p><p class="western">“No, I just draped and pinned and cut and pinned and sewed them,” Tevy said. “I’m not wasting a scrap of this beautiful cloth.” She stroked her bosom, making the yellow satin glimmer and the rhinestones glitter.</p><p class="western">“Tevy’s lots better than I am,” Winnie said. “I can sew a nice seam but not like her.”</p><p class="western">“Are you sisters?” Ulla asked.</p><p class="western">They smiled fondly at each other.</p><p class="western">“No, but we could be. We met a couple years ago and hit it off right away,” Winnie said. “It’s a hard life and it’s easier when you’ve got a friend.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, it is,” Ulla said and thought of Iolanthe, Shondra and her little girls and how Shondra desperately needed more money, and of Lannie, who had to be terrified wherever she was. Maybe Fen HighTower would prove to be a friend to her. He didn’t sound, from Winnie and Tevy’s description, to be someone dangerous. Except he’d beaten up Walter but he’d had a darn good reason so… maybe he wouldn’t harm Lannie? Gleesh.</p><hr/><p class="western">“Here’s my card,” Ulla said as they left the café. “If you remember anything else or hear anything, call on me.” She handed over the card and more coin.</p><p class="western">“Tradesman’s entrance?” Winnie asked suspiciously. She juggled the neatly packed boxed dinners — several days’ worth — as she took Ulla’s card and money. Tevy had her own stack of boxed dinners.</p><p class="western">“Hmm. I don’t know,” Ulla replied. “The daimyo would like it better. You know, maybe you should. Orlov is looking for Lannie too —”</p><p class="western">“— because that vicious drunk bastard wants to kill her, I bet,” Winnie interrupted.</p><p class="western">“Yeah, I’m sure he does,” Ulla said. “I don’t know if they’re watching the house, hoping to see if Lannie shows up and if they see you two, they might make the connection but I don’t think Rastislav or Dimitri, that’s his nephew who’s doing most of the looking for Lannie, would think to check the tradesman’s entrance. I doubt if they know where it is.”</p><p class="western">Winnie sniffed. “Probably not. We’ll go there. Pleasure doing business with you.”</p><p class="western">Ulla watched them stroll away and then had Lesten take her back to Mrs. Duckart’s Dress Salon for Ladies to tell Mrs. Duckart that she wanted her to look at Tevy’s stitching and designs and give them a fair trial and not instantly send them packing. As he drove the carriage down Rice Boulevard, she realized why Winnie and Tevy looked familiar. She’d met them briefly the day Yair insisted she go to the police substation near the park.</p><p class="western">Yair Buruk. She’d never see him again and it was for the best for both of them and for Silas Avongale.</p><hr/><p class="western">John RedHawk rolled his shoulders and readjusted his concealing newspaper. He was sitting at a nearby table, partially hidden by an overstuffed planter. He had spotted Winnie and Tevy at the lake being arrested and then, before he could intervene, Ulla DelFino had showed up. Like him, she must have instantly recognized the sunny yellow and lizard green satin adorned with rhinestones. Those blouses were extremely noticeable even if you weren’t looking for the remains of the ballgown Yilanda DelFino had discarded at the cathedral.</p><p class="western">He’d followed the carriage on foot, thanking his lucky stars that DelFino emblazoned all their carriages with their sigil, making sure everyone who saw them knew who they were getting out of the way for.</p><p class="western">The question was how to approach Winnie and Tevy. He thought, from the snippets of conversation he’d overheard, that Tevy was the one in sunny yellow and Winnie was the one in green. He had also learned that Winnie was the sharp one. He’d have to be careful in what he said so they would tell him what they told Ulla DelFino. One of the many whores he’d spoken with, while interviewing the regulars working around Cardozo’s livery stable, told him that Rastislav, daimyo of Orlov, had once put Tevy into the infirmary for a week.</p><p class="western">If they knew he was connected to Orlov, they wouldn’t talk.</p><p class="western">But if they thought he was following up for Ulla DelFino, they would.</p><hr/><p class="western">Eljinn was much more than a wide spot in the road. The Pole-To-Pole Road swerved to the west, bypassing the city. From their vantage point, it was impossible to tell how far the free-city sprawled other than from what Fen said he’d been told: it was bounded by both the Pole-To-Pole on the west and the 10° Latitude Road on the north. Lannie had no idea how much of Eljinn’s businesses and properties were owned by DelFino. Or Woo for that matter. Most likely, quite a lot. To her chagrin, she had to think who was north of DelFino. Varanati! That meant Trammelyn was north of Woo. She had casual acquaintances in both demesnes but no close friends.</p><p class="western">“You know anything about this place, Lannie?” Fen asked. “I should have asked earlier.”</p><p class="western">“No, nothing. When we, I mean Lady Constance and us maids, traveled to Ranaglia or Barsoom, we didn’t even leave the train station,” Lannie admitted carefully. “We just transferred to the next train. Or waited around until it showed up.”</p><p class="western">“Damnation,” Fen said. “I was hoping you’d know if there was a livery stable near to here. I don’t want to waste time hunting all over Eljinn. It’s big. Not Barsoom big, but it must be twenty times as big as anything back home. We could take all day.”</p><p class="western">Lannie looked nervously all around. They stood alongside the boulevard veering from the Pole-To-Pole Corridor and heading into the free-city. Someone had wanted to make a good impression on first-time visitors. The boulevard was wide, with a spacious tree-studded median down the middle offering welcome shade. More tree-lined medians lined either side of the boulevard, then sidewalks and buildings. Even here on the outskirts of Eljinn, the buildings were built from red sandstone and three stories tall.</p><p class="western">Weer had resembled the village back home, although it was much, much larger. Eljinn had grown out of villagehood decades ago. The boulevard was crowded with pedestrians, bicyclists, rickshaws, wagons, and carriages. As she looked down the boulevard to the first intersection, a trolley roared by on the cross-street, its bells clanging challengingly to warn foot-traffic and potential riders. The hubbub and odors of a city filled the air, so unlike the steppes or even the noise of the Pole-To-Pole Road.</p><p class="western">She could see all kinds of businesses, shops, and homes intermingling but there wasn’t a livery stable to be seen.</p><p class="western">“We’ll have to ask,” Lannie said reluctantly. “We may never find the place if we don’t ask.”</p><p class="western">“I was just thinking that,” Fen admitted. “But I don’t want to. This road looks important so it may cut straight through Eljinn and end up on the other side, meeting the 10° Latitude Road. Bound to be a livery stable along the main road.”</p><p class="western">“That’s true,” Lannie agreed, although she had no idea where livery stables would be located. Until she’d escaped from the cathedral, she had never noticed one.</p><p class="western">They quickly discovered that like the Pole-To-Pole Road, traffic on the boulevard was one-way. Once that was straightened out, they headed north on the correct side, wary and alert both for signs of livery stables and shouts of recognition and rewards.</p><p class="western">Half an hour later, Fen spotted the sign.</p><p class="western">“I knew it!” he said proudly. “Big stable too, so they’re bound to have liniment and antifungal for Coppertail.”</p><p class="western">“Will you have enough coin to pay for it?” Lannie asked.</p><p class="western">“We got plenty,” Fen said. “I got what I saved plus what we got from the bandits. We won’t need to use your pearls.”</p><p class="western">“Okay,” Lannie said, relieved. If the pearls were recognized as pearls, they’d be called thieves for sure and if the livery stable staff thought they were painted glass beads, they’d get paid nothing for them. How much did liniment and antifungal pills for horses cost? And would there be any money left over for a tarp and another bedroll?</p><hr/><p class="western">“I’ll pass this information on to Miss DelFino right away,” RedHawk said.</p><p class="western">“You not gonna tell those Orlovs, are you?” Winnie asked suspiciously.</p><p class="western">“I wouldn’t dream of it,” RedHawk lied smoothly. “Let me say now that Miss DelFino appreciates your truthfulness and willingness to answer all the questions she forgot to ask. She also wanted me to pass along more coin, knowing you might need it.”</p><p class="western">He handed over a handful of silver coins. The top one was embossed with an image of brave Ares, slicing through cringing Ole Earthe’s neck with an axe.</p><p class="western">Winnie and Tevy’s eyes widened and the suspicion left their faces.</p><p class="western">“Miss Ulla’s everything that a lady should be,” Tevy said.</p><p class="western">“Yes, she is,” RedHawk replied, recalling how thoroughly the harpy eviscerated the maître’ ď.</p><hr/><p class="western">“Fen HighTower,” Mr. Parminder said. He tapped a finger on his desk. “Interesting. Ass-length hair, beads in said hair, and a beard despite his age. John, get me that reference for the northern hemisphere peerages.”</p><p class="western">“HighTower doesn’t sound like a free-city name,” Redhawk said.</p><p class="western">“No, it doesn’t. I believe it might be, based on the lad’s physical description, a demesne based in the Ennaretee. They’re savages up there, but they are still lords of the Four Hundred.”</p><p class="western">“He slept in the stall with his horse.”</p><p class="western">“As I said, John,” Mr. Parminder told him as he thumbed through the book. “Savages with odd habits. They also all tend to be destitute, whatever their rank. This lad might be a collateral relative. Ah. Here we are. HighTower.” He smiled and showed RedHawk the map of the demesne’s location.</p><p class="western">“They’re located in the back of beyond,” RedHawk said.</p><p class="western">“They certainly are. If the lad is riding up the Pole-To-Pole Corridor Road to home, as he appears to be doing, it will take him months. He’ll drop off Miss Yilanda in Ranaglia.”</p><p class="western">RedHawk studied the map. “This would also explain the cheap postcard. The only available stationery manufacturer in that region must be located in Panschin.”</p><p class="western">“Let Orlov know that we have discovered how Miss Yilanda is getting to Ranaglia and that it will take her weeks.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, sir,” RedHawk said.</p><hr/><p class="western">“HighTower,” Dimitri said. He traced the Pole-To-Pole Corridor on the map filling one entire wall of the Orlov townhouse office. It showed, in detail, the settled side of the northern hemisphere of Mars from the equator to Northernmost. The opposite wall showed the map of the settled southern hemisphere.</p><p class="western">“Yes, my lord Dimitri,” RedHawk said.</p><p class="western">Dimitri’s finger stopped at Ranaglia. Part of the Ennagzee. Agricultural, cold, poor. If Lannie actually made it as far as Ranaglia, they might or might not take her in, but they’d seize the Pearls the minute they saw them. Lannie’s body might never be found and good riddance but Orlov had to have the Pearls back. Worse, it was a long, long way from Weer to Ranaglia and who knew what would happen in between?</p><p class="western">That idiot Fen must not know Lannie had the Pearls. Or maybe he already did and Lannie was dead.</p><p class="western">“Find Miss Yilanda.”</p><p class="western">“She is most likely on the way to Ranaglia, to her mother’s family,” RedHawk said. “She’ll be safe there.”</p><p class="western">“If she reaches there alive, RedHawk,” Dimitri said coldly. “We know virtually nothing about her traveling companion. The daimyo has made his wishes clear. He wants to speak to Miss Yilanda once more and profess his love to her. You must find her and as quickly as possible.” Or the Pearls will be gone forever and we are ruined.</p><p class="western">“You do understand, my lord,” RedHawk said carefully, “that we do not actually know where Miss Yilanda and Fen HighTower are. They must travel almost two thousand klicks to reach Ranaglia, and according to my sources, with one horse. That’s a lot of territory to search and that is assuming they remain on the Pole-To-Pole Road and do not take one of the Latitude Corridors eastward to the Nourz to Panschin Corridor.”</p><p class="western">“Why would they do that? Ranaglia is nowhere near there.”</p><p class="western">“Fen HighTower may persuade Miss Yilanda to return home with him rather than repatriate to Ranaglia. That is unlikely, I agree, but apparently men of the Ennaretee like to find brides from far away and bring them home.”</p><p class="western">Dimitri gasped audibly and forced his hands to un-fist. “I want her found as quickly as possible.”</p><p class="western">“Yes, sir,” RedHawk said. “Two further points. Parminder Investigations must be paid by close of business today for all work already done or we cannot continue the investigation.”</p><p class="western">“I will write you a cheque before you leave.”</p><p class="western">“Very good, sir. My other point. Have you told me everything related to this case?”</p><p class="western">“Yes,” Dimitri spat. “Everything.”</p><p class="western">RedHawk bowed and left with the cheque. It would go to the bank immediately to take advantage of whatever funds Orlov actually had in their account. He also left with the knowledge, surer than ever, that Dimitri Orlov was a liar and his lie was critical to the success of the investigation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Just get me out of here before someone else recognizes me!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fen strode confidently into the livery stable. He led Coppertail, while Lannie clung to the gelding’s other side. They’d discussed it and agreed. She didn’t want to wait in the busy street and he didn’t want to leave her there. They’d attracted some notice already and it made him uneasy.</p><p>He hoped no one in Eljinn had noticed his wanted poster about selling stolen pearls. It had to be his appearance. He’d seen no one who looked like they were from anywhere in the Ennaretee and right now, he’d accept aid from any Steppes Rider from anywhere in the Ennaretee and deal with the competition for Lannie later.</p><p>Lannie stared nervously all around her. She didn’t resemble the Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino the Orlov posters were looking for, not superficially at any rate, and who really closely observed someone walking by? She hoped. She also hoped the posters hadn’t made it up to Eljinn. She forced herself not to touch a pocket crammed with Pearls. What if Fen didn’t have enough coin to pay for Coppertail’s liniment? It might be more expensive than he thought.</p><p>“Hey!” Fen shouted as they stood in the large, busy central yard. “Where’s the boss?”</p><p>“Everyone will look at us,” Lannie hissed.</p><p>“They’ll look more if we sneak around,” Fen hissed back. “Besides, we need to get out of here quick.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I’m Gussert. What do you want?” A stablehand ambled over to them.</p><p>“Liniment and antifungal, Gussert,” Fen said. “Coppertail’s got an infected cut on his front right pastern.”</p><p>“Huh,” Gussert said. He knelt down to take a look. When he stood, he said, “this way. Mr. Obermatt will fix you right up.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt proved to be an older man with a seen-it-all before expression. He also knelt to examine Coppertail’s pastern, running his fingers gently over the scabbed-over cut and the slight swelling. He was thorough, examining Coppertail’s hoof and up his leg, all the time making soothing noises to the uneasy horse.</p><p>“Limping, you say?” he asked when he stood up.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Fen replied.</p><p>“Real fine horse. Why’d you geld him?” Mr. Obermatt gave Coppertail an approving scratch behind the ears which the gelding accepted as his due.</p><p>“It wasn’t my idea,” Fen replied. “I tried to talk my dad and the HorseMaster out of it. Coppertail hadn’t grown into himself yet. They thought he’d never amount to much.”</p><p>“Always thought it was a mistake, myself, to geld a colt too soon before you can see what he’ll be. I know colts will challenge you, but runts of the litter don’t always stay runts.”</p><p>“No sir, they don’t. So, you got liniment and antifungal and how much?”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt told Fen and he relaxed. Eye-wateringly expensive, but he had more than enough coin thanks to the bandits’ booty, meaning he could still purchase a second tarp and maybe even a bedroll.</p><p>“I’ll want to lance that swelling,” Mr. Obermatt said, slapping Fen back to reality.</p><p>“It’s that bad?”</p><p>“Not <em>yet</em>. Good thing you got here. Also, you can’t put any more weight on Coppertail than what he’s already carrying. I’m guessing you two are traveling north to the Ennaretee? You can’t ride this horse for at least another two weeks. Give his pastern a chance to heal up.”</p><p>“Two weeks!” Fen said. Good thing they had the bandits’ horses.</p><p>“To make sure his bone doesn’t get infected.”</p><p>“Terraformers can get into bones?” Lannie asked timidly.</p><p>“It can, which is why your horse needs the antifungal dose, miss,” Mr. Obermatt told her. “When those Olde Earthe bastards screwed up our genes so we could live on Mars” — he ran his fingers across his muddy olive-green arm, dappled with yellows — “they did a half-assed, slipshod, lick and a promise job on us and our animals. I’ll take Coppertail back inside. I keep a special stall for cases like this so it’s sanitary and he’ll stay calm.”</p><p>“We need to go with you,” Fen said in alarm.</p><p>“I know you lads from the Ennaretee don’t like leaving your horses but I do this a lot and it’s better if you aren’t around fussing and getting him riled up. You wait here,” Mr. Obermatt said in a tone of voice that permitted no disagreement.</p><p>“Best do what he says,” Gussert said. “We got a bench and water over there” — he pointed to the far wall — “while customers wait.”</p><p>“Come on,” Lannie said and grabbed Fen’s hand and headed toward the bench. Fen followed, trying to look back at Coppertail’s disappearing hindquarters at the same time knowing he couldn’t leave Lannie alone. She was, he realized with a shock, garnering more notice than he was. The grooms and stablehands were eyeing her as they worked; his Lannie with her big brown eyes. Sweet and pretty, in her ragged, stained, oversized coverall and her two long braids of hair, showing them all how long her hair was and that he didn’t know how to properly provide for her.</p><p>The bench was shaded by the overhang of the thatched roof, there was a pitcher of water, communal gourd cups, and an opened box of mil-rats (papaya this time). There was also reading material in the form of ancient newspapers and a huge bulletin board plastered with notices, fliers, help-wanted adverts and wanted posters.</p><p>They gaped at the board.</p><p>“Fen?” Lannie whispered. “I think that’s them!”</p><p>“I think you’re right,” he mumbled. The huge, central wanted poster, dwarfing all the other fliers, bore a strong resemblance to the two bandits he’d slaughtered or so he thought. He hadn’t wasted time getting a good look at them and afterwards, the rictus of death and slashed opened throats had altered their appearances.</p><p>“Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne,” Lannie said. “Also known as Kill-em-all Payne.” She began reading aloud the list of crimes as Fen listened in appalled horror.</p><p>“Oh. My. Gods,” she whispered halfway through, unable to continue the litany of atrocities. “I’m so glad you came back.” She reached for his hand and clutched it, all her remembered terror showing in her trembling.</p><p>Fen nodded, unable to speak and deeply grateful for the feel of her hand in his. He hadn’t felt a single regret over killing two men, but now, he wished that he’d done a neater job of it so they would have died slow and agonizing deaths. Like their many, many, many victims. He could not believe how lucky they had been and how he’d correctly gauged his need for speed and vicious certainty. If he’d hesitated even a millisecond and Lannie hadn’t blinded them, he and Lannie would have both, eventually, died. He needed to offer more thanks, both very soon and the moment he set foot in HighTower.</p><p>“How could the Martian government not have hunted them down?” he said into the horrified silence. “Or the daimyos of DelFino and Woo? They’re just as complicit! They knew this was happening and they let it go on for, for years, it looks like, yeah?”</p><p>“Look at the size of that reward,” Lannie said in awe. Charlton could rethatch every cottage in their village with that money and still have money left over.</p><p>“Yeah. Huge.” He could pay a few years of HighTower’s back taxes with that reward. The reward also demonstrated how brutal Reg and Killem were, because a reward like that would have brought out every Steppes Rider in the Ennaretee, eager to try their luck and earn glory and several fortunes in bride money. Yet no one between Weer and Eljinn had dared, the cowardly scrubs.</p><p>Lannie read further down the extensive text. “Oh,” she gasped. “Their horses have descriptions too! And names. Highstepper and,” she stopped. “Creamy Girl? What an odd name.”</p><p>Fen could feel embarrassment enveloping him like sinking into a hot spring up to his eyebrows. “Really?”</p><p>“Oh, I get it,” Lannie said. “It must be because of the mare’s white stockings.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” Fen said. He would never tell Lannie what the mare’s name implied.</p><p>“You were right,” she whispered. She squeezed his hand again and let go. “We don’t dare let those horses be seen. Everyone will think we’re <em>them</em>.”</p><p>“Shoot on sight,” Fen said wonderingly. “I never heard of that on a wanted poster before. Back home, we want outlaws like this brought in alive.”</p><p>“Why? Oh, that’s right. You told me what Krangland did to those bandits you met when you were coming to Barsoom.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen said, still agape at the wanted posters. “Staking gives a man time to think and regret. Painful, too.”</p><p>Lannie gasped, caught his hand again and squeezed tighter. “Fen?” she asked in a very tight voice. “Is that little flier there about you?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen replied and squeezed her hand back. “Guess the Weer sheriff has a long arm. We got to get out of here.” There wasn’t an image on the old, weather-stained flier so there was a good chance no one bothered to look at it when they could be gawking at Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne.</p><p>Lannie gasped louder and flinched.</p><p>“What?” Fen said instantly and then he saw it too, on the opposite edge of the bulletin board. This wanted poster was new, almost pristine. He read the text out slowly, staring at the image of a remarkably familiar young woman’s face, drowning in a ragged, oversized coverall and her hair in braids.</p><p>“Wanted by the demesne of Orlov. Reward. Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino. Believed to be traveling with Fen HighTower.” There was a smaller, indifferent image of him.</p><p>He turned his head very slowly to look at her as puzzle pieces began slotting themselves together.</p><p>“Lannie,” he said carefully. “What is your full, legal name?”</p><p>“We’ll talk about that later,” Lannie hissed. “We have to get out of here at once.”</p><p>“Yeah, we do,” Fen agreed. “And we need to talk.”</p><p><a id="_Hlk60488943" name="_Hlk60488943"></a>“Yes! Yes! Anything!” Lannie said. “Just get me out of here before someone else recognizes me!”</p><p>She pulled away from him, panicked and staring around to see if Coppertail magically reappeared, healed and ready to gallop away.</p><p>“Quit this right now, Lannie,” Fen said and grabbed her arm, keeping her from running. “We can’t attract attention more than we already have, we got to get Coppertail back, and we have to do something about the bandits’ horses because if anyone sees them, they’ll shoot us in the hopes of collecting that reward.”</p><p>“But, —” she began.</p><p>“— but nothing. We got to think,” he whispered fiercely. “We have to have two more horses, one for you and one for me. You heard Mr. Obermatt. We can’t ride Coppertail for two weeks and we don’t dare be seen on Highstepper and that mare.” He wasn’t going to say her name to Lannie.</p><p>“Creamy Girl?”</p><p>“Yeah, her. If I want to get you safely home to HighTower, we <em>have</em> to have horses and this livery stable right here is our best chance. Once we’re gone out on the steppes, no one will see us.”</p><p>Her face went ashen. “You’ll murder me.”</p><p>He went equally pale. “No! You know me, Lannie, and I will never let harm come to you. Trust me.”</p><p>“You beat up Walter! Why did you do that?”</p><p>“You want to talk about that rapist <em>now</em>?” Fen hissed.</p><p>“Walter’s not, not,” she stopped at his expression. “Okay, you’re right. We’ll argue later when we’re safe out on the steppes. Coppertail and horses first. What should we do? Ulla was right. A few minutes of thinking will save all kinds of aggravation.”</p><p>“This would be Ulla DelFino who gets in a tizzy over stained napkins and exactly how are you related to her?”</p><p>“You want to argue about Ulla <em>now</em>?” Lannie hissed.</p><p>“No! I want to get the hellation back out onto the steppes with two horses that no one will shoot us full of arrows and quarrels if they see us riding them!”</p><p>“A good plan,” Lannie said and to her horror, started giggling nervously and shaking and she couldn’t stop. At least she had quit babbling.</p><p>“Hey,” Gussert said to them, having noticed their distress. “You two okay there? Mr. Obermatt won’t let any harm come to that gelding of yours.”</p><p>“Uh, uh, that’s great to hear,” Fen managed. He draped his arm around Lannie, trying to pull her closer to him. “My, uh, girlfriend here was worried about those two bandits. Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne. They sound dangerous, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah, they’ve murdered hundreds of people,” Gussert said. “If you keep to the Corridor and sleep in the waystations, you should be okay.”</p><p>“Doesn’t the sheriff look for them?” Lannie said. She leaned into Fen, pushing him a few steps to the left in hopes of concealing the portion of the bulletin board that displayed their wanted poster.</p><p>“The last one did and got tied to his horse by his intestines for his trouble along with everyone in his crew,” Gussert replied. “Current sheriff is working on the problem.” He spat noisily onto the straw. “Don’t expect arrests to happen soon.”</p><p>“Not the daimyos either? Woo or DelFino?” Fen asked, trying to keep the stablehand’s attention focused on real bandits and not on him or Lannie. Yilanda. Yilanda DelFino and he hated DelFino, starting with Walter and Charlton DelFino and she had to be related to them somehow. Her body was pressed into his and he had to think clearly, something that was difficult to do whenever she was this close.</p><p>Gussert sniffed contemptuously. “Not them. They don’t care what happens to anyone in the Pole-To-Pole Corridor. Or the 10° Latitude Corridor either. Reg and Killem like to rob, rape, and murder along there too.”</p><p>“That’s good to know,” Fen said. “We’ll watch out. Mr. Obermatt said we couldn’t ride Coppertail for two weeks. How much does a pair of horses cost?”</p><p>Gussert said, “Well, that depends. We got some scrubs but I’m betting if you’re going home to the Ennaretee, you’ll be wanting something better which will cost more.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen said. “Best pair of riding horses you have for stamina and distance.”</p><p>Gussert told him and Fen blanched. He said “We’ll talk to Mr. Obermatt.”</p><p>As soon as the stablehand left, Lannie anxiously asked “Do we have that much money?” She mentally inventoried what they’d gotten from the bandits’ pockets and saddlebags and came up hundreds of credits short.</p><p>“No,” Fen said. “We got some jewelry but they’ll know it’s stolen and that means official notice. We got your eight pearls and I am not about to bring them up. No, not enough.”</p><p>“What will we do?”</p><p>“I’ll think of something.”</p><p>“I’m sorry I lied,” Lannie said.</p><p>“We’ll ford that stream when we come to it,” Fen said. “After we get out of here.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“First thing we’ll do is, as soon as no one’s looking, we’ll tear down our posters.”</p><p>“Everyone is looking.”</p><p>“Damnation,” Fen swore. “They’re looking at you.”</p><p>“I think it might be you,” Lannie argued.</p><p>“No, Lannie. They all want you and they all think I don’t know how to take care of a wonderful girl like you and they can do lots better.”</p><p>“That’s not true. You’ve done really well so far. I’m alive because of you,” Lannie said and smiled up at him and his heart melted and he found himself leaning in to kiss her, very gently, a brush across the lips, and she let him, leaning into his kiss.</p><p>“You want to talk horses, lad?” Mr. Obermatt said and they guiltily leaped apart.</p><hr/><p>“Perhaps if I went in person to Ranaglia,” Albion said after he broke the skynet connection. “I can be very persuasive and Yilanda is my dearest daughter.”</p><p>“You would steal the Pearls, Albion, and disappear,” Rastislav snarled. His head was splitting from the hangover and he’d slept poorly due to Madame Orlov, his father, and his loathed and feared grandfather screaming at him in his dreams.</p><p>“My daimyo is correct,” Dimitri added. “You swore that you could get Ranaglia to hand over Yilanda the minute she arrives without a single question or complaint!”</p><p>“That worthless son of mine got to them first,” Albion said sulkily. “He lied.”</p><p>“You lie like you breath,” Dimitri said. He bared his teeth, making Albion flinch back in the chair. “But I will permit you to travel to Ranaglia to seek Yilanda.”</p><p>“You betray us too!” Rastislav screamed and instantly regretted it when his headache revved up to avalanche proportions.</p><p>“No, my lord daimyo, I do not,” Dimitri replied. “The rotted ham will be escorted by Goryonov’s thugs. To see to his comfort and safety.”</p><p>Rastislav and Dimitri both showed their teeth to Albion, identical gleeful bear-like snarls.</p><p>“That won’t be necessary, I’m sure,” Albion replied weakly. “I’ll write a letter. Let me go do that right now. By your leave, my dearest friend and father of my grandchildren. You too, Dimitri.”</p><p>He leaped to his feet and sidled around Rastislav and Dimitri, heading to the door and the relative safety of a locked room. Then he stopped.</p><p>“A toast before I go, to celebrate knowing where my little girl is heading?” Albion asked. He held up the decanter, its contents glowing in the lamplight like a ruby lit from within.</p><p>“I am not a foolish drunkard,” Dimitri said, with an ugly glance towards the daimyo of Orlov.</p><p>“No, I will not drink again until I have the Pearls back and my Yilanda has borne my first son,” Rastislav said and stopped in shock at what came out of his mouth. He’d wanted to say yes to the rich, sweet, heady red wine and then something else, someone else, seized control of his tongue.</p><p>“You said that before,” Dimitri said disdainfully. “You did not keep that vow anymore than you kept the vow you made the day you became the daimyo of Orlov and swore you would safeguard the demesne and the Pearls.”</p><p>“I will keep this vow. My life depends on it,” Rastislav said and knew it was true. He stalked from the room, ignoring the decanter, afraid and chilled to the bone.</p><p>“Yes, my lord daimyo,” Dimitri said. Your life does depend on it, one way or another, he thought.</p><p>“Get out, Albion,” he added and when Albion left, Dimitri locked the door behind him and sat down to think. The sot had spoken, shaken and sweating, in front of him, but the voice had not been his. It had to be the pressure, he decided at last.</p><hr/><p>“You didn’t find any evidence from the spy-eyes?”</p><p>“No, John, we didn’t,” Lorenzo Smith said. “I shouldn’t be telling you this.”</p><p>“I appreciate whatever you can help me with, Lorenzo,” John RedHawk replied. “This won’t get you in trouble with your bosses in Internal Security? I can work around it but you’ll save me hundreds of hours.”</p><p>Lorenzo took a look around the park bench they were seated on. Like RedHawk, he was dressed to disappear in the drab and anonymous suit of a low-level bureaucrat. No one was paying them any attention; a pair of nondescript men eating fish and chips from out of newspaper cones from a street vendor was a commonplace sight in this neighborhood.</p><p>“I know that you see spy-eyes in lots of places but most of them aren’t hooked up. It costs too much money and the department isn’t interested in spending money and gathering data for the benefit of Olde Earthe’s secret police.”</p><p>“But I see the broken ones getting replaced,” RedHawk protested.</p><p>Lorenzo chuckled. “Just glass and a red lightbulb which is cheap. Or rather, they <em>were</em> cheap. Olde Earthe ships them to us to install but we don’t go past the hooking up stage so they light up. It keeps everyone happy.”</p><p>“Used to be cheap?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s weird, John. Every shipment of supplies Olde Earthe sends us normally includes surveillance equipment and we install just enough to keep those rapacious bastards from breathing down our necks when they make an inspection. The Barsoom police do the same. But the last two shipments were short.”</p><p>“That’s good, isn’t it?”</p><p>“No, John.” Lorenzo turned anxious eyes to his friend from childhood. “There’s something happening and we can’t figure out what it is.”</p><p>RedHawk swore softly. “Are they going to invade?”</p><p>“No, we’re not far enough along in the terraforming to make Mars perfectly habitable for them. John, the rumor is they didn’t send some of the spare parts we need for the Magnetrons or the Nitrogen Factory.”</p><p>As understanding sunk in, RedHawk slumped back against the hard bench. “We have to have that equipment.”</p><p>“Yeah, we do. There’s workarounds and plenty of people are working hard to keep things going, cannibalizing parts and the like. We should be okay and if the terraforming slows down, it’s good for us. It gives us more time to get ready for when they do show up. But.”</p><p>“But what?”</p><p>“What if we’re wrong?”</p><p>“Is there anything we can do?”</p><p>“Not really,” Lorenzo replied. “Only what we’re already doing.”</p><p>“Then I’m going to keep looking for Yilanda DelFino. And thanks for the info on Orlov.”</p><p>“They’re flirting with bankruptcy. Very unhappy creditors because of rumors about their famous pearls being fake. That daimyo of theirs is a drunken fool who listens to voices from the grave which is not helping.”</p><p>“Mr. Parminder has kept the billing up to date.”</p><p>“Good. John, if I learn anything about your case, I’ll let you know.”</p><p>“Thanks again, Lorenzo.”</p><hr/><p>“Yes, Mr. Obermatt,” Fen said. “I need two horses, one for me and one for Lannie. We got to get home because I’m sure my family is worried about why it’s taking me so long.” He had to stop babbling and think, Fen thought.</p><p>“I thought lads like yourself went on walkabout all the time,” Mr. Obermatt said. “How is this different?”</p><p>Fen tipped his head over towards Lannie and Mr. Obermatt nodded and smiled indulgently. Lannie caught the gesture and chose to say nothing since they could argue about it later, when nothing more important was happening. If Fen didn’t steal the Pearls and then murder her or abandon her out on the steppes to die.</p><p>“I got a wonderful pair; good riding horses, tough, excellent stamina and endurance.” Mr. Obermatt named his price. Having already heard it from Gussert, Fen didn’t flinch.</p><p>“See, that’s my problem, Mr. Obermatt,” he said. “I don’t have anywhere near that much money but I have got to have those horses.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt spread his hands in dismay and said, “I’m sorry to hear that. That’s my best price. I’ve got other horses but they’re not as good quality.”</p><p>“I’ll pay you when I get home and get some money,” Fen said. “I, uh, I’ll give you my beads as collateral. All of them.” He touched the beads woven into his hair and swallowed. “I got a few more in my saddlebag.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt looked surprised and touched. “Very nice and I know what they mean to you Ennaretee lads, but no.”</p><p>“Mr. Edwaldon Cardozo and his wife of Cardozo’s livery stable in Barsoom can vouch for me.”</p><p>“Although we’ve never met, I’ve heard good things about Cardozo and his business. Still no.”</p><p>“I got information.”</p><p>Lannie turned to him, her eyes wide and her face frightened.</p><p>Fen held his finger up to her lips. “Trust me,” he mouthed.</p><p>She subsided reluctantly, openly afraid.</p><p>“Those bandits in that poster, Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne,” Fen said. “I think I might know where they are. And their horses. You can have the reward if I can have the horses.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt laughed heartily. “My two horses or Reg and Killem’s horses?”</p><p>“All four of them,” Fen said stoutly. “If what I think happened did happen, and I’m not admitting that it did or that we had anything to do with it, you’ll get that reward which is enough coin to buy a herd of top-quality horses.”</p><p>“You could take that reward.”</p><p>“We got to get home right away. Lannie’s more important.”</p><p>“You get that reward money and you can buy train tickets and get home in a couple of weeks instead of the months you’re gonna take.”</p><p>“I don’t like traveling on trains. It’s unnatural. I like traveling on horses,” Fen said stubbornly.</p><p>“And this information is good?” Mr. Obermatt said and laughed raucously. “As if anyone will ever get the drop on either of <em>them</em>.”</p><p>Fen pulled up his shirt just enough to reveal his belt supporting the distinctively embossed scabbards and bone hilts of the knives he’d taken from Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne’s bodies. He watched the blood drain from Mr. Obermatt’s face.</p><p>“I’m not saying that I know what happened because I don’t,” Fen said. “But gimmie some paper so I can draw you maps to find what I think I saw.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt wordlessly handed over a notepad and pencil and watched as Fen rapidly sketched out two locations in the steppes to the east of the Pole-To-Pole Road, one just outside the city limits of Eljinn. He noted approximate distances and landmarks and handed back the map.</p><p>“I’m fairly accurate,” Fen said. “If I’m right and I may not be. There’s bodies here —” he pointed to the further away location “— and you should look for this rock cairn and see what’s buried underneath it and do what’s right and...” He stopped suddenly and slapped his forehead with a groan. “My best snare! Damnation.”</p><p>“Your best snare?” Mr. Obermatt said, bemused and still in shock.</p><p>“Uh, yeah, I may have left a snare out on the steppes while we were poking around and getting lost and if you find it, mail it to me up at HighTower. Here’s my address. Along with, I do not know how they got there, but here,” Fen pointed to the spot close to the edge of Eljinn, “there might be their horses or at least they match the description of their horses in that wanted poster. Highstepper and um, Creamy Girl. Hobbled. Got water and grass and they’ll be expecting um, someone, to come get them. I want them shipped to HighTower along with my snare and you can keep the reward and get your picture in the newspaper because I don’t want to do that.”</p><p>“You don’t want your picture in the newspaper?” Lannie asked and then wished she’d not interrupted. Of course he didn’t want his picture in the newspaper any more than she did. Too many people were looking for them.</p><p>“Each newspaper picture steals a bit of your soul and you don’t get it back,” Fen said earnestly.</p><p>Both Lannie and Mr. Obermatt gave him the same disbelieving look.</p><p>“Right,” said Mr. Obermatt. “You’re not sure what happened to Reg and Killem?”</p><p>“No sir, I got no idea because even though I know they’re outlaws and evil ones based on that wanted poster, I also don’t go around killing people so it couldn’t possibly have been me,” Fen replied. “I’d never associate with the likes of them and I don’t want to give anyone the idea that I’d ever partner with outlaws in general. I’m a law-abiding citizen and I don’t want or need trouble.”</p><p>“Right,” said Mr. Obermatt.</p><p>Fen lifted up his shirt again, showing off the knives. They had also been described in the wanted poster by the very few terrified survivors. The implication was that if you saw Reg and Killem’s knives, death would be a long, painful time coming but it would come. Eventually.</p><p>“Got it,” said Mr. Obermatt. “I assume you’ll need saddles and tack for your new horses?”</p><p>“Yes, sir, we will. If you’re done with Coppertail, I’d like to see him.”</p><p>“Gussert will take you there.” Mr. Obermatt waved at the stablehand who ambled over and listened closely to a string of instructions.</p><p>Lannie watched it all silently, mind racing. They might make it out of here alive, but Mr. Obermatt and everyone else was sure to talk about them. It was too good a story and despite Fen’s protests of innocence, Mr. Obermatt knew Fen had killed Reg and Killem the minute he saw the belt knives. Maybe he would ship Highstepper and Creamy Girl to HighTower and maybe he wouldn’t. He would certainly talk about meeting them and collecting the ransom to everyone he met for the rest of his life. Also, while they needed saddles, they needed other gear as well.</p><p>Fen said, “Lannie, let’s go check Coppertail.”</p><p>“You go, Fen. I’d like to talk to Mr. Obermatt for a minute.”</p><p>“You sure?”</p><p>“Just go, Fen, and trust me,” she hissed.</p><p>He left reluctantly, openly torn between leaving Lannie and attending to Coppertail.</p><p>As soon as Fen was out of earshot, Mr. Obermatt said, “you wanted something? Lannie, right?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Obermatt, I do,” Lannie said and did her best to channel Ulla, mama, and all the other ladies of DelFino when they were speaking to servants. “In addition to the saddles and tack, I want saddlebags, a bedroll for me, a tarp, a rain poncho for me, three boxes of mil-rats, the papaya kind is fine, get it done as quickly as you can, and your sworn promise you won’t tell <em>anyone</em> we were here.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt took a step back. This little slip of a young lady had sounded just like a risto. But she wasn’t one, in her ragged coverall ten sizes too big, her hair in braids, and smelling of the road.</p><p>He opened his mouth but Lannie started talking again.</p><p>“And to thank you in advance,” she said, “I’d like you to have this.” She dug into a small pocket where she’d put the remaining rings from the Pearls of Orlov and held it out. “Have a jeweler you trust appraise it and if he says it’s fake, get another jeweler.”</p><p>The ring caught the sunlight. The gold flashed and the four pearls gleamed as if lit from within.</p><p>Mr. Obermatt gasped as he saw, like the prisms his wife collected and hung in the windows, all the colors of the rainbow caught in orbs of purest, iridescent creamy white. Like the prisms, the pearls shimmered like they were alive.</p><p>Lannie watched with satisfaction as the Pearls of Orlov ensnared the livery stable owner like they had ensnared the postal clerk in Merreth. He held his hand out, entranced, but she held the ring up in the sunlight, turning it this way and that, instead of dropping it into his palm.</p><p>“Your sworn promise on your name,” Lannie said.</p><p>“I swear,” Mr. Obermatt said, unable to tear his eyes away. “I, Hans Bryant Obermatt, will do as you ask.”</p><p>“Don’t show the ring to anyone but your wife and your jeweler.”</p><p>“No, I won’t.”</p><p>“Get those horses ready.”</p><p>“Yes, Lannie, I will,” Mr. Obermatt promised and she dropped the ring in his hand. He stood there, frozen and staring at his palm.</p><p>“Get moving or I’ll take the ring back,” Lannie blurted out and he came out of his trance, tucked the ring into his shirt pocket closest to his heart and began shouting for stablehands and ostlers to get moving on this customer’s needs right away.</p><p>Gleesh, she thought. That was necessary and still hard and she should be used to the effect the jewelry had on her. She should be happy because he was doing what she wanted, yet it felt like a stab to the heart to watch Mr. Obermatt walk away with a tiny piece of the Pearls of Orlov, a piece that no longer belonged to her.</p>
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<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Fen confronts Lannie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fen sweated and stewed as the two new horses were readied and Coppertail got seen one last time. He kept getting distracted by the new gear that stablehands carted out for his approval. At the same time, it seemed every other employee in the stables raced around, suddenly too busy and excited to notice him or Lannie. Mr. Obermatt must, he decided, want to get right on earning that immense reward for virtually no risk. Still, despite needing trail gear for Lannie, he hadn’t dickered for it and he felt suspicious.</p><p>“How are we paying for this stuff?”</p><p>“It’s okay. I told Mr. Obermatt we needed it,” Lannie whispered.</p><p>Fen stared at her. “Just like that? He’s giving it to us?”</p><p>“He’s going to win a huge reward. He can afford it.”</p><p>“Right. We’re gonna talk about who you really are as soon as it’s safe.”</p><p>“Fine!” Lannie hissed. “Get us out of here before someone goes over to that bulletin board to read up on Reg and Killem and sees our wanted posters.”</p><p>“Right. Here comes Coppertail.”</p><p>Coppertail looked annoyed and openly favored his right leg, probably because of the bandaging swathed around where Mr. Obermatt lanced his swelling. The orange antiseptic stained the white cloth along with spots of blood. The stablehand leading Coppertail handed Fen a small bag.</p><p>“Clean bandages, another antifungal dose, and more antiseptic,” Gussert said. “Swab him down every morning for the next two weeks and he should be fine. Instructions are in the bag.”</p><p>“Should be fine?!” Fen gasped.</p><p>Gussert rolled his eyes. “Mr. Obermatt is assuming you’ll follow directions and not push him and not ride him and not stress his leg any more than you have to. You don’t follow directions and Coppertail will suffer.”</p><p>“I’ll do exactly what Mr. Obermatt says.”</p><p>“Then you and your gelding should be fine.” Gussert looked around and leaned in to speak more confidentially. “You got any idea why Mr. Obermatt is running around all excited?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“He’s already sent runners to the sheriff, the Eljinn police, and,” — he lowered his voice — “to Internal Security!”</p><p>“Good to know,” Fen said, taken aback. “We need to head north as quick as possible. If I take that boulevard out front and head north does it intersect with the 10° Latitude Corridor Road?”</p><p>“Sure does. It’ll take you hours to get out of Eljinn.”</p><p>“Thanks. Lannie, we’ll leave soon.”</p><p>Fen looked both horses over swiftly; a stocky, disdainful sorrel mare and a powerful bay gelding. He whispered to each of them in turn, letting them know who he was, gentle and slow, and then said, “Lannie, you’ll be taking the bay gelding. His name’s Handsome. I’ll take Tabasco.”</p><p>“Good eye,” Gussert said. “She’s a good goer, but she’s got a mind of her own.”</p><p>Fen grinned. “Good mares do. They take better care of their foals.”</p><p>A few minutes later, they headed out of the livery stable and down the boulevard the way they entered the city.</p><p>“Fen, why are we going this way?” Lannie asked.</p><p>“You heard Gussert,” Fen replied. “Several hours northeast in front of everyone living in Eljinn or half an hour south to reach the steppes. Once we’re on the steppes we disappear. Riding through all of Eljinn guarantees someone will remember us.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. Gleesh, she thought. Plus, the sheriff, the free-city police, and Internal Security were on their way. Fen was right. She could already see he’d been right about the new horses. She wouldn’t have been able to handle Tabasco. Like Coppertail, Handsome was more tolerant of her indifferent horsemanship. Creamy Girl, on the other hand, had been a delight.</p><p>“We’ll circle to the west and parallel the Pole-To-Pole Road and rejoin it north of Eljinn. We’ll make camp early tonight so we can talk.”</p><p>“Okay.” Lannie knew she’d fret the entire day. At least it gave her time to think of what to say and rehearse so she’d be ready for whatever questions Fen asked. Daddy, the rat, was right about working out in advance what to say.</p><p>“I am not gonna hurt you, Lannie, even if you are related to that damned Charlton and Walter DelFino.”</p><p>“Okay.” Except you think I only stole ten pearls and not all of the Pearls of Orlov and what will you do when you see them? I can’t lie anymore. You never lied to me.</p><p>Fen wanted to sigh. Lannie was back to one-word answers but it was to be expected. She’d heard him rant about evil DelFinos for weeks and here she was part of that damned family. And why was Orlov paying to get her back and not DelFino? Was anything she had told him true? In the meantime, he’d work out what he wanted to say for his next postcard home, the one warning his father that two horses might be arriving for him. And did he want to tell them about Lannie? After tonight’s discussion, Lannie might change her mind about coming home with him to HighTower. The thought stabbed through his vitals.</p><p>At least she’d be alive somewhere, even if it wasn’t with him.</p><hr/><p>“Damnation,” Charlton swore after Iolanthe finished reading Ulla’s latest letter aloud. He continued on in that vein for several minutes and when he ran down, Iolanthe said, “It’s confirmation, my darling.”</p><p>“That those whores lied to me when I asked them about my sister? We could have found Lannie weeks ago!”</p><p>“It’s frustrating,” Iolanthe said. “But by the time you spoke to them, Lannie was already out of the city with Fen HighTower.”</p><p>He stopped shadowboxing and came over to sit with her on the terrace, enjoying the last breezes of the evening.</p><p>“This is my fault and I shouldn’t take out my anger on you.” Charlton got back up again and began pacing.</p><p>“I feel so trapped,” he announced to the cool night air. “We can’t leave my estates again unless the daimyo gives us permission.”</p><p>“You are correct, Charlton,” Jorge said as he entered the terrace from the house. “The daimyo, by the way, was pleased you did not make any unauthorized side-trips on your return.”</p><p>“Zachery told you that?” Iolanthe asked before Charlton could.</p><p>“No, but I have other sources.”</p><p>“Do your other sources, like Ulla, tell you anything else?” Iolanthe prodded.</p><p>“This was not Ulla. Walter wrote to thank me and you,” Jorge nodded to Charlton, “for giving him the opportunity to acquire land of his own.”</p><p>“Didn’t write to me,” Charlton said, nettled.</p><p>“He asked me to convey his thanks to you. He admits his handwriting is poor and he did not want to be misconstrued.”</p><p>“I am capable of reading Walter’s handwriting,” Iolanthe said. “It isn’t the worst I’ve ever seen so he could have written to me.”</p><p>“You can ask him why he did not. He and Naomi plan to visit within the month to inspect the land we’re proposing he take over.”</p><p>“Wonderful,” Charlton said morosely. “I can’t search for my sister. Instead, I have to ride all over creation with Walter.”</p><p>“It could be worse,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>“I have to entertain Naomi while you and Walter are traipsing around in the wilderness.” She shuddered theatrically.</p><p>“Constance will be delighted to assist, I’m sure,” Jorge said with a fond smile.</p><p>“I’m sure she will,” Iolanthe said.</p><p>And I’ll do all the work while Constance arranges flowers, she thought, but at least I won’t be alone with Naomi. I wonder if Naomi knows anyone in the Ennaretee who knows how to write. I wonder if Naomi knows how to write. What will I say to Cook? I’ll have to keep those two apart, not that Naomi knows what a kitchen is or how to find one, but I can’t have Cook smashing a cleaver through Naomi’s skull until after Khan sends her dowry for Walter to set up his new estate. Maybe afterwards I can introduce Naomi to Cook and stand back.</p><p>“In the meantime, we’ll just have to wait for news from Lannie like another postcard,” Jorge said. “She sent one before. She’ll mail another on her way to Ranaglia.”</p><p>“If she’s alive to write it,” Charlton said.</p><hr/><p>Fen desperately wanted to escape Eljinn faster but he couldn’t strain Coppertail. At least mounted on the new horses, leading Coppertail, they made better time leaving the city than they had when they walked in. It felt like every eye watched them. He also had to get ahead of Mr. Obermatt. Fortunately, search parties took time to organize, particularly search parties tackling notorious outlaws like Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne. Despite Mr. Obermatt seeing their belt knives — and the only way he could have acquired them was off their corpses — Mr. Obermatt would be cautious.</p><p>The wanted poster didn’t state that Reg and Killem had partners but they had a hideout somewhere so that was another reason to be cautious. And if the corridor sheriff, Eljinn’s police, and Internal Security were cautious, they’d move even slower.</p><p>He wondered if he’d see Highstepper and Creamy Girl again. She was a beauty, that mare, like nothing he’d ever seen before. Just in the day and a half he’d owned her, he’d been impressed by her intelligence, willingness, and stamina. Her foals would be outstanding. The one positive thing he could say about Reg and Killem was they knew their horses. Highstepper and Creamy Girl (he cringed every time he said her name) were well-trained and well-cared for. He had to wonder what they’d witnessed Reg and Killem do and pray it hadn’t affected the horses. They weren’t stupid. Did they understand how evil their previous owners were? Perhaps they would welcome belonging to him and HighTower.</p><p>He glanced over. Lannie was keeping pace with him. Now he knew why a street girl or a housemaid could ride. Because she wasn’t a destitute street girl. As a member of DelFino, she would be able to handle a horse. She was getting better too, with all the practice. Her face was set. What was she thinking about? The lies she would tell him, most likely.</p><p>Sweet, pretty Lannie with her big brown eyes and long, dark hair, a DelFino. He couldn’t think of her as being Yilanda DelFino. It didn’t feel right. And at the same time, no matter what lies she told, she had been desperate to escape Barsoom the day they met. That was clear enough. What had happened to make a member of DelFino run away with a total stranger? Why was Orlov looking for her? Had she really met the daimyo of Orlov? Did she have no place to go? No other family that would take her in? That was strange too. Worrisome even, because it implied that she’d done something unforgivable.</p><p>Had she killed someone? Impossible.</p><p>He’d have to wait until they made camp at sunset. They wouldn’t have to stop for water or food since Lannie had asked for boxes of mil-rats and they’d filled all the waterskins at the livery stable. She’d thought ahead.</p><p>What had she done?</p><hr/><p>They reached the Pole-To-Pole Road and merged into the northbound lane rather than cutting straight across. Lannie spoke for the first time.</p><p>“I thought you wanted to parallel the road on the west? In the steppes?”</p><p>“I do, but we need to work our way over without being noticed. Traffic is heavier than I thought it would be, and on both sides too.”</p><p>Another whistle sounded in the distance.</p><p>“And avoid being hit by trains?”</p><p>He spared a glance at the multiple sets of tracks. “Them too.”</p><p>He lifted himself in the saddle to see further ahead, hoping to see a waystation and realizing he wouldn’t because they weren’t far enough north of the last one. The Martian government didn’t believe in wasting resources so a waystation was expected to serve both north and southbound traffic. He’d learned on the trip down that it required travelers to cross only at those points and not wherever they felt like it. Travelers who didn’t follow those rules garnered not just fury from the people they got in the way of; he had been told they got official notice if anyone official, like Internal Security, was around to notice.</p><p>“Everyone notices when you ride over all those sets of train tracks. We want to be invisible.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>As they slowly rode forward along with the tide of humanity, no convenient waystation appeared and Fen remembered to his dismay that there would not be a waystation until the Pole-To-Pole Corridor Road intersected with the 10° Latitude Corridor Road. It was a more efficient use of resources, having one gigantic waystation serving all this traffic, rather than trying to set up several smaller ones. People could just walk further and if they didn’t want to, well, there was the free-city of Eljinn just to the east. If he was paying for waystations, that’s what he would do.</p><p>When he’d ridden down to Barsoom, he’d followed the Road, directly west of Eljinn. The junction where the two Corridor Roads intersected was immense and awe-inspiring. He’d gawked like a rube from the sticks, along with all the other foot traffic. He hadn’t known something so huge could be built, dwarfing every previous Corridor intersection he’d seen on the journey down. It was a reminder of the power of Olde Earthe and their ability to remake the bones of a planet as they wished.</p><p>He told Lannie this.</p><p>“Okay,” was all she said.</p><p>“There’s crossovers at the waystation if we can’t cross earlier,” he said reassuringly.</p><p>She twisted to look at him again. “Even more than you, I cannot be seen.”</p><p>“Why does Orlov want you so bad and not your own family?”</p><p>“I can’t tell you here.”</p><p>“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” He wanted to bite his tongue off the minute the words left his mouth.</p><p>“No! And I didn’t beat anybody up either,” Lannie snapped. “Like Walter.”</p><p>“Walter had it coming.”</p><p>“Fine. You can tell me why later.”</p><p>But had she killed someone? Lannie began to fret. In a roundabout way, she might have. Peasants in Orlov might starve because she’d stolen the Pearls. The ruling family wouldn’t; that went without saying. But judging by what she’d learned of Rastislav, the Orlov family would cheerfully let peasants die. They weren’t like her brother, getting muddy in a drainage ditch with his peasants. What would Charlton say about her stealing the Pearls and what it would do to the peasants of Orlov? He’d been ready to sell her to Rastislav to save their estates, even while saying for months that she didn’t need to worry.</p><p>Why had he done that? Why had Ulla rushed off to go last-minute trousseau shopping? Why had Dimitri Orlov also told her not to worry? Why hadn’t Walter told her his plan to rescue her? Ulla was right, Lannie reflected. Poor communications made every situation worse.</p><p>“Fen?”</p><p>“What,” he answered sulkily.</p><p>“I’m trusting you with my life. And maybe a lot of other people’s lives. I don’t know.” Her voice caught and he could hear her fear and grief. “I’ll tell you when we make camp. Please don’t run mad and murder me.”</p><p>“Lannie, I would never do that.”</p><p>“We’ll see,” she answered and she refused to speak again, stolidly riding Handsome into the north alongside Fen on Tabasco, Coppertail following behind on his lead.</p><hr/><p>“I need to visit Ranaglia,” Ulla announced, marching into the daimyo’s office in the DelFino townhouse.</p><p>“No, you do not,” Ottilie said. She was right behind Ulla, wanting to continue the argument.</p><p>“Out of the question,” Zachary ordered. “Close the door behind you. I’m not putting on a show for the servants.”</p><p>“Why not?” Ulla demanded. She dutifully closed the door, regretting she didn’t dare slam it in Ottilie’s face and keep the matchmaker outside in the hall, cooling her heels.</p><p>“Because you have not officially accepted Silas Avongale,” Ottilie said. “New gentlemen are in the city and I’m arranging dinner dates. As Zachery knows.”</p><p>“Can’t Chloris go on those dates? Or Marilinda?”</p><p>“They have their own lists of young men to meet. You, however, are being far more troublesome than any of your peers,” Ottilie said. “You’ve become a challenge.”</p><p>“Moreover, you’ve run through your entire quarterly allowance searching for Lannie and are rapidly depleting your savings,” Zachery said. “DelFino will not fund you racing around the planet. If Lannie shows up in Ranaglia, they’ll tell us.”</p><p>“Gleesh! You moron! They’ll kill her, dump her body in a ditch, and steal the Pearls of Orlov!” Ulla screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth.</p><p>“The Pearls of Orlov,” Ottilie said, eyes wide as pieces of the puzzle she’d been observing began slotting into place.</p><p>“We will not discuss this, Ottilie,” Zachery said calmly.</p><p>“I think we should, my lord daimyo,” Ottilie said. “We’re alone and there’s no time like the present. Otherwise, I must agree with Ulla’s assessment. You are a moron.”</p><p>Zachery carefully set down the surveys of the northeastern quadrant of DelFino he’d been reviewing.</p><p>“I am not a moron, Ottilie.”</p><p>“I certainly hope not, since you are our daimyo and your election is coming up at the Winter Solstice. Questions are being asked by the family about why you are not more actively trying to rescue Yilanda. I know she shamed the family but even so, she was railroaded into that travesty of a marriage and you know it,” Ottilie replied.</p><p>“Ottilie is correct,” Ulla said. “But please accept my apologies, sir. You aren’t a moron.” An imp of honesty impelled her to add, “most of the time.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” he asked, eyebrows up.</p><p>“Dear Ulla means we all make decisions we later regret,” Ottilie purred. “We can’t be right all the time. This confirms rumors <em>I</em> heard. That drunken sot brought some of the Pearls of Orlov with him, draped them on Yilanda, and when she disappeared, so did they.”</p><p>“Orlov does not allow anyone other than the daimyah to wear the Pearls, Ottilie, and Yilanda was not yet the daimyah. Moreover, I believe Orlov has sets of false pearls, brought out for just such occasions,” Zachery said.</p><p>“Even so, you should be searching for Yilanda.” Ottilie stopped suddenly and a reptilian smile wreathed her face. “You <em>are</em> looking for Yilanda, aren’t you? You’re permitting Ulla to do the legwork but you’ve got that special assistant of a servant searching as well. Are you working with Walter? My sources tell me Evans hasn’t been seen in Barsoom. May I assume, if you locate Yilanda, you’ll announce the acquisition of the Pearls of DelFino at the Winter Solstice gathering? Just before the vote?”</p><p>Zachery smiled coolly. “Fake pearls will not win me the election. Colonizing the northeastern quadrant may. I will send a representative of DelFino to Ranaglia to await Yilanda’s possible arrival —” he caught Ulla’s alert attention “— but it will not be you, Ulla. I need someone with more experience, tact, and social skills.”</p><p>She slumped back, letting her anger show.</p><p>“I have other plans for you, Ulla. I was very impressed with your comprehensive report on tree plantations and I want to see a lot more on the subject. I also want to see more information from you about how Avongale does things. You spent two weeks in Avongale, but I have yet to see a report summarizing what you learned.”</p><p>Ulla looked even more sullen.</p><p>“I expect a positive response, Ulla, or you will return to DelFino Castle to get your trousseau in order. I’ve cut you a lot of slack, but if you are no longer working for the betterment of DelFino, I will no longer do so,” Zachery said coldly.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Ulla muttered.</p><p>“You and Ottilie are dismissed. Do not speak of the Pearls of Orlov to anyone else.”</p><hr/><p>“Your bedchamber, Ulla. Now.”</p><p>“Yes, aunt Ottilie,” Ulla replied morosely.</p><p>“We need to discuss your penpal network, my penpal network, and in exchange for information, I will provide you with some of my own funds.”</p><p>“Yes, aunt Ottilie.”</p><hr/><p>Gussert stared at the bulletin board. He’d gone over to read the wanted poster about Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne since, apparently, Mr. Obermatt had gotten a very reliable tip about them from that scruffy Steppes Rider with the pretty girlfriend. That was the rumor, at any rate, and it went a long way to explaining why Mr. Obermatt, the sheriff, all the deputies, the Eljinn police, and Internal Security were gathering in the livery stable yard. It might be true too, since the scruffy Steppes Rider hadn’t paid Mr. Obermatt for Handsome and Tabasco or any of the gear loaded onto those horses.</p><p>He kept staring at the wanted poster and could not reach any other conclusion.</p><p>“Gussert!” Mr. Obermatt came striding up to him. “You got work to do, while I head out into the steppes. Quit getting distracted, you fool.”</p><p>“Mr. Obermatt, I think you got to look at this wanted poster.”</p><p>“I’ve read that poster about Reg and Killem. Once was enough.” He grimaced.</p><p>“No sir, it’s that new one, up in the corner.”</p><p>Gussert carefully unpinned the notice and held it out for Mr. Obermatt to read more easily.</p><p>“By Wylrheus,” Mr. Obermatt said after a thorough perusal. “I think that’s her.”</p><p>“Yes, sir. With Fen HighTower and isn’t that who bought Handsome and Tabasco?”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt pulled out the address the scruffy teenager had given him, listing where to ship Creamy Girl and Highstepper. He stared at the notice. Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino stared back as did a mediocre, but still recognizable sketch of a scruffy teenaged lad from the Ennaretee.</p><p>“Yes, he did. I think these people in the poster might be them,” he said absently. He thought hard. Orlov was paying a handsome reward for any information about the whereabouts of Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino and Fen HighTower. Lannie could be the nickname for Yilanda. More importantly, Lannie had spoken to him like a risto speaking to a servant. He recognized that cultured tone of voice and air of entitlement instantly. He’d been on the receiving end before.</p><p>She’d also given him the glorious pearl ring. Only a risto could afford a ring like that. The gold was real and so were those mesmerizing pearls.</p><p>Orlov was a name he’d heard of but he couldn’t remember where from. They weren’t anywhere near Eljinn or he’d know so they weren’t important. Or, at any rate, no more important than any other obscure, uppity pack of Four Hundred ristos.</p><p>DelFino, on the other hand, was a name to be feared. Why wasn’t DelFino looking for Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino? Or Ranaglia for that matter? He knew that name too. They’d cause him trouble, but not like DelFino could. DelFino would ruin him.</p><p>Did he want to send a message to DelFino providing information about their wayward daughter? The wanted poster was from Orlov, but that meant nothing. DelFino could be looking for Yilanda too. In fact, it was quite likely DelFino was looking for Yilanda, and he had to consider his business and his family’s wellbeing.</p><p>He had promised Lannie not to say anything. He would have to be careful in what he said so as to not be forsworn. Even if he received the entire reward for turning in Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne, he needed the reward money from Orlov. It would reimburse him for the costs of shipping Creamy Girl and Highstepper to HighTower. That was a good place for those horses, assuming the scruffy lad’s information and map was accurate. Around here, those horses had an evil reputation. In the Ennaretee, no one would care.</p><p>He eyed Gussert. A good man, loyal and hardworking, but not terribly bright. Gussert needed his job to keep his own family afloat. Gussert would do as he was told.</p><p>“I’ll take the wanted poster, Gussert. I’ll take care of the situation and you get back to work.”</p><p>“Yes, sir, Mr. Obermatt.”</p><p>Mr. Obermatt walked back to his office, thinking hard, the rolled-up poster in his hand. He couldn’t be forsworn on his oath to Lannie or Wylrheus would punish his business, his family, and himself. But he needed the money. He was months behind on the rent for the livery stables and only his good relationship with the First National Bank of Eljinn was keeping him afloat. There were other debts, too. If DelFino ever found out he had not told them about Yilanda, he’d wish he was only struggling with a bank foreclosure. He needed both rewards to stay in business.</p><p>Once inside his office and behind a locked door, he pulled out the pearl ring. It glowed in the dim light, like the moons at midnight. He closed his eyes but its image remained burned into his mind’s eye. If he could sell the ring and collect both rewards, he’d clear his debts and stay in business. He’d even turn a small profit.</p><p>The question was how, without being foresworn. The sheriff of Eljinn was a good friend. His brother-in-law was a major in Internal Security. A son-in-law worked for the Eljinn police. They had the right contacts to reach DelFino and Orlov. They would understand his hints and could be trusted to turn over the reward money to him. He’d have to share a bit, another reason to collect the Orlov reward since every penny of Reg and Killem’s reward was already earmarked.</p><p>He would have to speak carefully, but he could do it. He sank to his knees beside his desk to pray for guidance and to his intense relief, the answer from Wylrheus was yes.</p><hr/><p>“There they are,” Mr. Obermatt said.</p><p>“Damnation,” the sheriff of Eljinn said in wonder. “Creamy Girl and Highstepper in the flesh. That lad had their knives?”</p><p>“Saw them myself.”</p><p>“I’ll want a cut of the reward,” the sheriff said. “You and your wife can take me and my wife out to a lavish dinner.”</p><p>“Done.”</p><p>“We’ll need to talk about that lad.” Major Achebe, the local head of Internal Security, had managed to stop gawping at a pair of horses he’d never expected to see without having his intestines being wrenched out of his body first.</p><p>“I got to be careful,” Mr. Obermatt said. “I don’t want to be forsworn.” They’d already spoken and, like the sheriff, his brother-in-law had been understanding and helpful. It was a reasonable response since his primary law enforcement headache had been miraculously cured without any effort on the part of any of the law in Eljinn.</p><p>“I understand. I’d like to know how some scruffy teenager got the drop on Reg and Killem,” Major Achebe replied.</p><p>“So would I,” the sheriff added. “You know what they did to my predecessor and his deputies.”</p><p>Everyone in the group shuddered. Reg and Killem had the skills of a surgeon and the old sheriff was still clinging to life when they found him, although his deputies were not.</p><hr/><p>Traffic on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor Road never lightened up enough to cross over the multiple train tracks and the southbound lane and flee into the steppes. Every time it did, a train rattled by in one direction or the other. Fen finally decided that it was just as discreet to blend into the traffic heading north. While he was the only Steppes Rider, he and Lannie weren’t the only people riding, with a third, spare horse on a lead. They couldn’t move fast anyway, with Coppertail’s injured pastern slowing them down.</p><p>Hours later, they neared the huge crossroads where the Pole-To-Pole Road intersected the 10° Latitude Road. There were dedicated places to cross so anyone on any part of the road system could reach the biggest waystation he had ever seen, looming ahead on the horizon. It looked like a fortress. No one would notice them in this vast mob.</p><p>“Lannie?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Here.” He pointed to the crossing, the mob of southbound traffic filling the other side of the Pole-To-Pole, and the steppes beyond.</p><p>She stared for a moment at the road and then looked up ahead at the waystation. “Shouldn’t we wait until after we intersect with the 10° Latitude? We’ll still have to cross that road, going against both lanes of traffic, and won’t people notice?”</p><p>He eyed her and then smiled. “You’re right, Lannie. We should.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><hr/><p>“Lannie?”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Here.”</p><p>“Okay.” Lannie looked around.</p><p>They’d passed the waystation without stopping or (she hoped) being noticed. The crossroads itself was, to their mutual astonishment, partially underground and partially up in the air, including the railways. The 10° Latitude Road plunged below ground while the Pole-To-Pole rose up over it like a giant bridge. The effect was to funnel and compress the traffic, making it move even slower. It also allowed them to gawk over the railing at the immense railyard sprawling to the east, between the two Corridor Roads and Eljinn.</p><p>Once on the other side, everyone spread out again, more than they needed to. Fen spotted enough of a gap to slide through. At the same time, no trains were bearing down on them. He steered Tabasco, Coppertail on his lead, and Lannie followed. They swiftly crossed the tracks, annoying the southbound traffic on the other side, and entered the steppes.</p><p>Once over the first line of low hills, Fen reined in Tabasco.</p><p>“Do we stop here?” Lannie asked anxiously. It didn’t look like a good place to sleep to her. They were too close to the road and it was still several hours until sunset. She could still hear the murmur of voices, the clopping of hooves, the shriek of unoiled wheels, and over it all, the roar of another train. The sound enveloped them from two sides and to her chagrin, she realized they were still very close to the 10° Latitude Road. And if they stopped here, she’d have to tell Fen the truth.</p><p>“No. I want to check Coppertail.”</p><p>A few minutes later, satisfied that Coppertail was fine, they were on their way. As promised, Fen paralleled the road, keeping just far enough away that although they could hear it, they couldn’t see it.</p><p>“Do you think there are bandits?” Lannie asked after another hour. The sun was sinking into the horizon and clouds were building up. She wanted to vomit from fear. Couldn’t he just pick a spot so she could tell him everything and get it over with? Why was he delaying?</p><p>“Don’t see any signs,” Fen replied. “But I didn’t see any sign of Reg or Killem either.”</p><p>“We have to stop!” Lannie snarled. “Find a place because I’m going crazy.” Then to her horror, she burst into hysterical giggles.</p><p>“Yes, okay, I’ll find a place,” Fen replied. Another half hour, further away from the road, and he did.</p><p>He got the horses settled while Lannie paced nervously around and around, not laying a fire, not unpacking the bedrolls, not doing anything to set up camp for the night. It was unlike her. Every time he glanced over at Lannie the same thought recurred.</p><p>Why had she run?</p><p>Had she killed someone and lied to him about it?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. If the lad had three pair of boots, then where’s the third body</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fen squatted by the tiny fire and when the water boiled, he poured it out over the last of his mint leaves. It would be plain hot water from now on. Lannie had been so agitated, he’d done everything to prepare for the night. The sun was at the horizon but the heavy cloud cover made it darker and gloomier. All signs pointed to rain, but they’d both be drier and warmer. She had gotten Mr. Obermatt to give them another bedroll and a second tarp as part of whatever deal she had cut with him at the livery stable in Eljinn.</p>
<p>“Lannie,” Fen called. “Sit down and drink some tea and eat.” He held out his kuksa to her and to his great relief, she stopped nervously pacing around and around and around, wringing her hands and either crying silently or giggling in a mad agitation he’d never seen before. She was making the horses nervous and if she didn’t settle down, he’d have to move them further out. As it was, they kept edging away. Fortunately, they were staying together. Tabasco had already let both geldings know who was in charge and she wasn’t leaving.</p>
<p>Lannie didn’t sit, just stared at him, then accepted his kuksa and finally sat hunched over as far away as she could get and still be near the fire. The flames formed a tiny barrier. She gazed into the kuksa at the unfurling mint leaves, breathing in the scent.</p>
<p>He waited and his patience was rewarded.</p>
<p>“Promise me you won’t run mad and murder me,” Lannie said, her voice shaking like her hands.</p>
<p>“I would never do that,” Fen answered.</p>
<p>“You say that so easily,” she marveled. She looked up at him and bit her lip. “I’m Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino.” Her eyes were enormous in the firelight. Tear-tracks on her cheeks caught the light.</p>
<p>“I got that part.”</p>
<p>“My mother is Constance Ranaglia DelFino.”</p>
<p>“That would be Lady Constance? The lady in whose house you lived where I thought you were a housemaid? The one that Ulla came to organize?</p>
<p>“Ulla is one of my cousins. Remember, you promised. My brother is Charlton DelFino. Walter DelFino is another cousin. He’s also the daimyo’s son.”</p>
<p>“Your brother,” Fen said. “The one who beat me up.”</p>
<p>“You were beating up Walter.”</p>
<p>“I caught Walter trying to rape Astrid. That’s Mr. Cardozo’s daughter if we’re talking about important people’s kids. I was cleaning stalls for them in Barsoom in exchange for boarding Coppertail.”</p>
<p>“Walter would never,” Lannie said hotly and her voice trailed off. She closed her eyes in pain. “Maybe he would. He had me write that awful letter.”</p>
<p>“What letter?” Fen asked in confusion.</p>
<p>“Um. We’ll get to that. Charlton told us you were beating up Walter and that’s why he and Dimitri Orlov jumped in.”</p>
<p>“And beat me up.”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t you? Charlton and Walter don’t like each other but they’re both DelFino.”</p>
<p>Fen thought of Ethan and frowned in distaste at the fire. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>“That’s how I knew who you were. I mean I didn’t know who you were, not your name or anything, but Charlton said you had a braid down to your ass and I thought, when I saw you…” She stared at him. Her eyes were reddened from crying. “That you’d be mad enough at them to help me.”</p>
<p>“What did you do, Lannie? I won’t ever hurt you. I’m pissed off because you’ve been lying to me but I won’t harm you.”</p>
<p>“You say that now,” she answered.</p>
<p>“Because I mean it. Did you really meet the daimyo of Orlov? Or was that another lie.”</p>
<p>“I met him.” She shuddered all over, almost slopping tea out of the kuksa. When she regained some control, she sipped tea, soothing and calming.</p>
<p>“He’s a horrible old geezer who beat his three wives, one to death. Daddy insisted I marry him on my eighteenth birthday. He wanted my bride price to save mama’s life and I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t get anyone to help me.”</p>
<p>“Your family agreed to this?” he asked, appalled. “That’s terrible. We’d never do that in the Ennaretee.”</p>
<p>Lannie nodded vigorously. “Mama wanted me to be the daimyah of Orlov and be draped in pearls. Our daimyo, that’s Zachery, approved. Charlton said I had to, to save mama but he also kept saying not to worry. They all said not to worry. Charlton, Walter, Ulla, even Dimitri Orlov, but I can’t figure out why.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t believe anything that came out of your brother’s mouth,” Fen said hotly and then stopped. A memory he kept suppressing rose up: watching Charlton DelFino force Walter DelFino to swear on his name to not harm Cardozo, his family or his business. And Dimitri Orlov, a princeling wearing lace cuffs and pearl-bedecked clothes, had backed Charlton up. Then the three of them left the livery stable to go to a wedding.</p>
<p>“You were getting married that day, yeah?”</p>
<p>“I was supposed to. Walter had me write an awful letter to the daimyo of Orlov asking him for something for our wedding day.”</p>
<p>She stopped to stare into the fire, then met his eyes again. “You promised. Remember your promise.”</p>
<p>“You <em>murdered</em> the daimyo of Orlov?” Fen spluttered. “That’s why you ran?”</p>
<p>“No, no, I didn’t kill anyone,” Lannie snapped. “At least I don’t think so but maybe I did or I will because of what I did!”</p>
<p>“Lannie, calm down and go real slow and tell me.”</p>
<p>“I stole the Pearls of Orlov. Walter told me to ask for the Pearls and demand a private chapel room to pray. Rastislav draped me with Pearls and locked me in and I figured out how to escape all on my own. I found the coverall and the boots in a closet and I took my ballgown with me and gave it to some prostitutes in an alley and they told me where the livery stable was and I met you. I ran away with you, a total stranger, because I was so scared and desperate. You promised, Fen.”</p>
<p>She thrust her hand into a pocket and pulled out a string of pearls.</p>
<p>He gaped. She’d stolen far more than ten.</p>
<p>She didn’t stop.</p>
<p>She pulled out more and more and more pearls.</p>
<p>Each pocket yielded more; rings, bracelets, brooches, necklaces, a headpiece made of ropes of pearls. She emptied pockets until the ground in front of her was heaped with pearls of all sizes. They glowed in the firelight, each pearl more lustrous and gloriously beautiful than the next. Here and there, winking diamonds flashed in the mass of pearls.</p>
<p>Fen was speechless, his mouth hanging open, and his mind and heart were filled with pearls and he couldn’t see anything else. Fresh snow in the moonlight, clouds lit from behind by the sun, the purest white of snowy owl feathers, the Milky Way filling the heavens with uncountable glittering stars, the moons racing towards each other at the horizon, icicles shimmering at noon, frost flowering on windows at sunrise, his most beautiful dreams made real, and he <em>wanted</em> the pearls more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire life.</p>
<p>“You promised you wouldn’t kill me.”</p>
<p>He couldn’t answer, mesmerized by the Pearls of Orlov.</p>
<p>She began to cry again and her hiccupping sobs broke the spell.</p>
<p>“You promised,” she wailed.</p>
<p>He lurched to his feet, blinking and unfocused, and tore off his shirt and threw it over the heap of pearls, narrowly missing the fire.</p>
<p>“What are they?” he gasped out, looming over Lannie in the increasing darkness.</p>
<p>She stared up at him and scrabbled back away, looking as terrified as when he’d seen her facing off with Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne.</p>
<p>“I swore I would not harm you and I do not go back on my word,” Fen forced the words out. “I can’t look at those pearls and think clear. <em>What are they</em>?”</p>
<p>He turned around, his bare back to the fire and focused on the heavy clouds overhead, a mass of ominous shifting shades of gray. He could understand clouds. He could understand the cool wind blowing across his bare skin. He could understand the sound of night insects, little frogs, the low calls of night birds, the horses watching from a safe distance, and the sound of rustling grass. He could not understand why bones from inside some kind of Olde Earthe snail twisted his heart and seized control of his mind and will.</p>
<p>“The Pearls of Orlov,” Lannie said to his back. She sounded calmer, a bit, now that he wasn’t directly threatening her.</p>
<p>“You said that already. What does that <em>mean</em>?”</p>
<p>She hiccupped and snuffled and he was afraid she wouldn’t answer but he didn’t dare turn around and face the pearls and lose his soul again.</p>
<p>“They’re the talisman of Orlov. A symbol of Orlov’s wealth and power. Only the daimyah of Orlov is allowed to wear them. I don’t know more than that, except that they’re incredibly valuable. They’re not <em>normal</em>, Fen. They’re not like regular jewelry. Mama has pretty jewelry but none of it makes me feel the way the Pearls do. I held still in the cathedral when that awful geezer draped me with Pearls. He stole my mama’s opal earrings and said the most horrible, lewd things to me when he put the earring wires into my earlobes and I couldn’t move! I couldn’t run away when he ran his hands over my body, pinching and squeezing! He groped me and I held still! I wanted to scream and vomit and I <em>couldn’t</em> because the Pearls wouldn’t let me!”</p>
<p>“I might understand,” Fen replied, keeping his eyes on the shifting clouds overhead. “When you gave me the ten pearls. I never saw anything like them. I didn’t want to sell those two pearls to the pawnbroker in Weer.”</p>
<p>“When we were in the cathedral, I watched the Pearls enchant daddy and Walter and, and me. But not Charlton.”</p>
<p>“Your brother?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“What did these pearls do to him?” Fen asked, hoping for some kind of normal response from someone, even someone he hated. He wished he could see her face, read her expressions, but he didn’t dare turn around and have the Pearls ensnare him again.</p>
<p>“Nothing. He looked at them and said he’d sell them for money to rethatch cottages and rebuild roads. Daddy said he had no soul and Walter said he had the soul of a peasant.”</p>
<p>A drop of rain hit his skin, reminding him he was flesh and blood and rain was threatening. Then another and another, startlingly cold and vividly real on his bare skin. The fire hissed and spat. They were out on the steppes, exposed and vulnerable, and now was not the time to lose his head.</p>
<p>“Lannie,” Fen said, taking refuge in practicalities that had been drilled into him by the Hands of HighTower and Kenyatta. “Rain is coming. I’m going to empty a saddlebag and we’ll put all the pearls into the bag and we’ll settle in for the night. Those pearls are dangerous and I can’t think straight when I see them.”</p>
<p>“No one can. Except Charlton. I sold a pearl ring to the postal clerk in Merreth so I could mail Charlton the earrings even though she swore she couldn’t do that per postal regulations. But she wanted the ring so she did. I gave Mr. Obermatt another ring in exchange for his word he wouldn’t tell anyone about us and to get the extra gear we needed. He swore on his name to get the ring.”</p>
<p>“That was good thinking on your part, Lannie,” Fen said. “I’m getting the saddlebag so don’t panic when I walk away and when I come back. We’ll stuff those pearls into the bag so we can’t see them and we’ll settle in for the night and I want you to tell me everything. From the beginning.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Fen wedged himself up next to Lannie, rolled up in his bedroll again. He didn’t argue; it was a better one than what Mr. Obermatt sold her, but she was accustomed to it. His new bedroll was better than nothing to be sure and the second tarp meant he’d stay dry and warm in the spattering rain. She was calmer now that the Pearls of Orlov were safely tucked into a saddlebag, swaddled inside his second-best shirt. He’d have to buy another shirt; he was wearing one, he’d sacrificed his best shirt to save Lannie’s feet from blood poisoning weeks ago and here went the last. A sacrifice to save his sanity and self-control. No wonder Lannie had been afraid.</p>
<p>“Tell me, Lannie. Everything.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Lannie whispered. “I can’t lie anymore.”</p>
<p>She shuddered and trembled and he shifted around until he had his arms wrapped around her. She wasn’t lumpy any more, now that her pockets were empty. A portion of his body wanted to misbehave and Fen forced himself to concentrate.</p>
<p>Gradually her story came out, in fits and starts and hiccupping sobs. She told him her fears of Rastislav, her deep desire to save her mother, and her even deeper fear that no one in DelFino cared about her, other than because she had stolen the Pearls of Orlov. Her resentment over being used by her family to meet their own goals. Her worries over being pursued until she was found and murdered and the Pearls taken from her. Her understanding that none of her friends would dare take her in because their families feared the wrath of DelFino and Orlov. Her grief over her father poisoning her mother and how she would never know if her mother lived. Her rage at her father for what he’d done to her and to her mother. Her deeply mixed feelings about her brother. Her concern over what her theft meant for the peasants of Orlov, because if Rastislav was any indication, they would suffer grievously because she’d stolen the Pearls, but he would not. Her self-disgust for lying to him.</p>
<p>At last, empty of grief and fear and loss, she pushed her head into his shoulder, snuffled again and fell asleep, worn out. He stared overhead at the rapidly changing sky as he had since they’d laid down. While she spoke, the cloud cover had broken apart as the wind picked up and the rain went someplace else. Stars began to show in the gaps in the clouds, gaps that opened wider until the clouds vanished, torn apart by winds high up. The array of constellations told him it was very late. As Lannie cried herself out, the sky itself emptied of rainclouds. He wondered if it meant anything. The heavens never lied but that didn’t mean what they said was clear.</p>
<p>Fen could not fall asleep.</p>
<p>His body didn’t want to. He’d have to get up when he was sure Lannie wouldn’t notice and take care of needs, as he had every night since he’d met her. Of equal importance, his mind wouldn’t let him.</p>
<p>The implications of her theft were overwhelming. The Pearls of Orlov were a treasure beyond counting. With them, he could rebuild not just HighTower, but his quad, his ninesquare, perhaps even the Ennaretee. They were also supremely dangerous. The ten pearls Lannie had given him had caught his attention and selling two to the pawnbroker in Weer had twinged. How much harder would it be to sell these pearls?</p>
<p>The stars revealing themselves overhead gave no answer.</p>
<p>He had already decided to speak to the GroveMaster when he reached HighTower. His next postcard home would demand a meeting as soon as possible. He needed an expert in the unseen world to help him manage the pearls.</p>
<p>If Lannie agreed.</p>
<p>True, she had stolen the pearls, but they were hers now, just like Reg and Killem’s knives and stolen jewelry were his. Orlov did not deserve the Pearls back, not when the demesne forced unwilling eighteen-year-old girls into marriage to known abusers. He could feel the grin stretching his face. He’d come home with not just the coin he’d won from those bandits at Krangland. He’d come home with four more horses, the booty from Reg and Killem, and what would become the Pearls of HighTower.</p>
<p>And Lannie.</p>
<p>The grin faded. His older brothers and cousins would fight for and win her. Worse, his family would tear themselves apart over the Pearls. If the Pearls had this effect on him, levelheaded as he was, it would be far worse with Ethan. And everyone else. The Hands too. The daimyos of the other demesnes in his quad, his ninesquare, his region.</p>
<p>The thought arose unbidden, unwanted, uncomfortable and so alluring.</p>
<p>He could walk away. Take the Pearls of Orlov and vanish. Thanks to his teaching her, Lannie knew enough to stay alive on her own. He’d leave her with Handsome and his tack. She could find her way, somehow, maybe even up to Ranaglia, where her mother was from. She knew how to get there now, following the herd of humanity flowing northwards on the Pole-To-Pole Corridor. She could eat mil-rats and get water at waystations.</p>
<p>She’d be fine.</p>
<p>Lannie was deeply asleep and he edged away from her carefully and got up and found himself walking towards the saddlebags, piled up by the banked fire. There was enough starlight to see the outlines. The boots she’d worn when they met that had torn up her feet sat neatly side by side, along with Reg and Killem’s salvaged boots, all destined for someone in HighTower. HighTower was poor enough that someone in one of the villages would be grateful for boots. Hellation, someone in his own family would be grateful for replacement boots.</p>
<p>He’d never have to salvage someone else’s boots again.</p>
<p>Or worry about coin for bills and taxes. Argue with family who thought he was the runt of the litter and so could be ignored, no matter how good his ideas were. Shiver in the winter and roast in the summer. He’d heard that was one of the differences between being rich and being poor. Rich people were warm in the winter and cool in the summer.</p>
<p>He could own more than a few shirts. He could do what he wanted, travel where he wanted, see all of Mars without worrying about the cost or the work left undone.</p>
<p>He could walk away.</p>
<p>The breeze teased his face and somewhere, not too far, he heard a shrill squeal, cut off sharply, and knew some fox or coyote had eaten for the night.</p>
<p>He’d never eat a mouse or a mil-rat again. He wouldn’t have to sell many pearls to live like a king and he could keep the rest.</p>
<p>All he had to do was walk away.</p>
<p>He stared up at the heavens. Barsoom did not have stars like the steppes did, here or in HighTower. The constellations were not just distorted, so close to the equator. The sky itself had fewer stars because the city had too many lights.</p>
<p>The sky had mostly cleared, letting the Milky Way shine down; a vast, dazzling river of infinite stars. It split the sky in two, countless more stars strewn on either side. There was just enough moisture left in the air to add a touch of haze, making it harder to see the tiniest, individual stars but they were still there. The stars never disappeared, even when they could not be seen. They remained unchanged; cold, uncaring, and as beautiful as the Pearls of Orlov.</p>
<p>He became aware of the three horses watching him steadily in the dark. They must have edged closer to him and Lannie, once they’d settled in for the night and Lannie began talking. Now <em>he</em> was making them uneasy.</p>
<p>Better to move further away while he figured out what to do.</p>
<p>He could walk away.</p>
<p>A flash in the sky caught his eye. A shooting star arced past, there and gone in a second. It vanished near to where he saw Olde Earthe, looking like a bright blue star and not the planet he knew it was. A few days after he and Lannie met, they and everyone else in the Pole-To-Pole Road watched the rocket blasting away from Barsoom spaceport and soaring across the solar system to Olde Earthe.</p>
<p>Olde Earthe was where pearls came from. Olde Earthe, a planet of lying, rapacious, bloodthirsty bastards. No one from Olde Earthe could be trusted to keep their word. They signed treaties and swore oaths but everyone on Mars knew what would happen when they returned; when Mars had been completely transformed into a world where unmodified humans could walk about in the open air.</p>
<p>Everyone on Mars would become a slave.</p>
<p>If he abandoned Lannie and stole the Pearls of Orlov, he was no better than anyone from Olde Earthe. He would be forsworn on his oaths to his family, to his Hands, to his vassals, to everyone in the demesne down to the baby born the day before he left for Barsoom and the dead watching over the living from the Sacred Grove.</p>
<p>If he vanished, his family would never know what happened to him. They would grieve and worry, just as Fen was sure Lannie’s family grieved and worried over what happened to her. She didn’t think anyone did but someone there would care even if they dared not say so aloud. The only news her family had was the postcard she had mailed from Merreth and the little box containing the pearl earrings that she claimed Charlton DelFino would sell to rethatch cottages for his villagers. Lannie had been sure her brother would sell the earrings. He had more than a hundred people who depended on him, along with their mother. Charlton DelFino who told his sister not to worry over and over and over, from the day their father decided to sell her to the daimyo of Orlov. He ran his fingers across his ribs. Unbroken. He’d been unable to even let himself admit that Charlton DelFino had pulled his punches but he must have, because otherwise he’d have cracked ribs from the fight and been pissing blood. Charlton DelFino who had forced Walter to swear on his name in front of witnesses that he would not harm the Cardozo family and their business.</p>
<p>Fen didn’t have much experience with Four Hundred gentlemen closer to the equator, despite being a member of the Four Hundred himself. Nonetheless, he knew that their oath, on their name, was a matter of honor. Just like the Ennaretee.</p>
<p>Was Charlton DelFino a better man than he was?</p>
<p>The concept was galling. Charlton ‘I get what I want’ DelFino who had wasted time protecting Mr. Cardozo and his family despite being on his way to a wedding. Charlton DelFino who had <em>not</em> wasted a single minute demanding that he, Fen, a nobody from nowhere, be punished for beating Walter DelFino black and blue.</p>
<p>He had to be at least as good a man as Charlton DelFino. The breeze rustled amidst the grasses surrounding him and he could almost hear Dawud and Kavan. They had been clear in their instructions. He had to return to HighTower because the demesne desperately needed him.</p>
<p>It would have been tragic but acceptable for him to die, defending Lannie from Reg and Killem. He’d fulfilled his obligations to her, fighting for her safety, and to HighTower when he voted in the regional zemstvo and paid the moneylender. It would never be acceptable to abandon Lannie and HighTower. His name would be remembered forever in the Ennaretee but for all the wrong reasons.</p>
<p>Fen sank to his knees, staring at the stars glittering high above like ice crystals in the sun. He asked and he was answered as he knew he would be. He had to choose and live with the consequences of his actions. The decision would not be made for him, freeing him of his responsibility. Lannie stealing the Pearls of Orlov would have repercussions for generations. So would his response.</p>
<p>He stood back up, eyes on the North Star, low to the horizon. Over HighTower, it would be high and centered, the constellations wheeling around it as the night passed. For good or ill, he knew what he had to do. He soothed the horses, checked the fire, got his body back under control, and rolled up in his bedroll next to Lannie. If she was still willing, he’d take her to HighTower. He’d do his best by her, by his family, by his vassals, and by his demesne. Lying next to Lannie, he stared up at the sky as he had not been able to in Barsoom. He could see a glimmer of an answer in the carpet of stars, lighting up the sky for anyone, high or low, to enjoy as they saw fit.</p>
<p>Despite their chilly indifference, the stars did not discriminate, giving their luminous beauty to some but not to others. It would take time to understand what the stars suggested he and Lannie do with the Pearls of Orlov, but they did not lie.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“You still want to come to HighTower with me?” Fen asked. He’d been impatient but waited until Lannie had woken up and be reassured he hadn’t abandoned her in the night. It was shaming to see her open and grateful relief. She’d expected to wake up alone. Or not wake up at all.</p>
<p>He held out his kuksa.</p>
<p>“Just hot water. We ran out of mint last night.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m drinking your supplies.”</p>
<p>“No worries,” he replied. “We got some coin left since Mr. Obermatt took the reward for Reg and Killem in exchange for the horses. We can buy more on the way home. If you want.”</p>
<p>She looked down at the cup, steam curling from it but without the soothing and reassuring scent of mint. But it was hot and would warm her.</p>
<p>“Why do you ask?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know if you want to go to Ranaglia,” he said.</p>
<p>“I can’t go there, Fen.” Her eyes were still red from crying herself out the previous evening. “That’s the first place my family will look and so will Orlov. But I don’t know if my family or Orlov would find me there. Ranaglia would take me in and no one would ever find my body. Or the Pearls.” She stared sadly at the fire. “I can’t trust them.”</p>
<p>“We’d welcome you to HighTower, pearls or not,” Fen reassured her. “What do you want to do with the Pearls?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not yet. I know I don’t want to give them back to Orlov. They sing to me.”</p>
<p>“And to me. We’ll figure it out during the trip home. I don’t want to tell anyone about them at HighTower,” Fen said.</p>
<p>She shuddered all over. “No. I don’t get along with Charlton but he’s the only person I’ve seen who isn’t affected by the Pearls. Everyone else.” She looked up at him with red eyes and tearstained cheeks. “Everyone else will run mad and fight over them.”</p>
<p>“Agreed. We’ll keep them hidden in the saddlebag. We’ll still need to stop for water and mil-rats but with three horses, we can make good time to Darnay. The weather will warm as we head north so with the extra bedroll and your rain poncho, we should be fine.”</p>
<p>“What will happen at HighTower?”</p>
<p>“Well, I’ve been thinking about that since I met you.” Fen shut up in consternation. If he said anything now about wanting Lannie, to be her lover, perhaps even her husband if she was willing, she’d immediately assume it was because he wanted the Pearls of Orlov. He fell back on what he’d told her weeks ago.</p>
<p>“You’ll be welcomed,” he said warmly even as his heart clenched and twisted because he could not reveal how he felt. “We’ll keep the Pearls hidden. No one needs to know.”</p>
<p>“Okay.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been thinking about your brother,” Fen said reluctantly. “Does he mean what he says?”</p>
<p>She sighed gustily, frowned, and picked moodily at a mil-rat. The papaya kind that Mr. Obermatt had provided did taste better but they were still boring chewing exercises.</p>
<p>“We argued all the time. But he does. He always wanted me to keep trying. But he wasn’t fun, like daddy. Daddy always said Charlton was stupid because he couldn’t read very well, but I’ve been thinking that daddy was wrong. Why do you ask?”</p>
<p>Fen told her what happened at Cardozo’s livery stable and Charlton’s words.</p>
<p>When he finished, Lannie said, “yes, he means it and not just because he doesn’t like Walter. Ulla always said I didn’t pay enough attention. I drifted through the days like mama and Ulla was right. I’ve been thinking for days and he means it.”</p>
<p>“You mean the harpy obsessed with stained napkins?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Ulla could be that way. Fen, it was so strange. I have so much to ask you and tell you. You don’t know us so maybe you’ll see what I’m missing. Like with Ulla.” Lannie looked away, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “I miss Ulla. She wanted me to succeed. She wasn’t always sweet about it but she didn’t want me to fall on my face as the daimyah of Orlov. Yet she ran off when I needed her the most.”</p>
<p>“We’ll talk as we ride.”</p>
<p>She smiled at him and it felt like the sun, warming his back on a cold day. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Mr. Obermatt, the sheriff of Eljinn, and Major Achebe stared at the carnage sprawled before them, as did the assortment of stablehands, deputies, Eljinn policemen and Internal Security agents. Despite seeing Reg and Killem’s knives and then finding Creamy Girl and Highstepper, there was always the chance of an ambush. Safety lay in numbers.</p>
<p>“Good God almighty,” the sheriff said and crossed himself.</p>
<p>“Is that them?” Mr. Obermatt asked. Nausea made him want to hang back. Carrion birds and scavengers were feasting on the bodies and the smell was indescribable. Even without Fen’s map, the odor would have led them to the exact location once they got close. Dried blood discolored the soil and the grasses had been trampled. Ropes of intestines and other organs had been dragged out of the slashed abdomens, swollen with rot. The bodies seethed with maggots and flies.</p>
<p>“I think it might be, although it’s hard to tell with their eyes crow-picked and that much damage. That scruffy lad <em>butchered</em> them,” the sheriff said. “What he didn’t do, the critters are doing.”</p>
<p>“It has to be them,” Major Achebe said, damp handkerchief clamped to his nose. Everyone had a dampened handkerchief held to their nose. “It’s the only way that scruffy lad would have their knives and we found Creamy Girl and Highstepper all on their lonesome. That mare is the only thing in this life that Reg loves and he would never sell her to anyone. Loved.”</p>
<p>“Best get started,” the sheriff said and he, with the police and Internal Security, began writing down descriptions and sketching the crime scene for the piles of reports this case would generate.</p>
<p>While law enforcement worked, Mr. Obermatt began prowling around and spotted the rock cairn Fen had described. It was topped with quartz pebbles, giving it a bit of shine. Fen had said to look underneath.</p>
<p>“Over here!” Mr. Obermatt called. The cairn was swiftly disassembled and the bag found.</p>
<p>The sheriff opened the bag and gagged. “It’s them. This is full of Reg and Killem’s souvenirs. That lad did us a favor. I can’t imagine how he’s still alive.”</p>
<p>“Keep searching,” Major Achebe said. “Find everything. We’ve never located Reg and Killem’s hideout so we might find a clue here. Why are their feet bare?”</p>
<p>“The lad had three pairs of boots with him, tied to Coppertail’s saddlebags,” Mr. Obermatt said. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. The Ennaretee is poor so if he came across something he could salvage and take home with him, he would. They must have belonged to Reg and Killem. He didn’t waste time on their clothes because they’re ruined.”</p>
<p>Major Achebe and the sheriff both looked at each other and then studied Mr. Obermatt, making him shift uneasily.</p>
<p>“If the lad had three pair of boots, then where’s the third body?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The sheriff of Eljinn followed the trail the scruffy lad and his girlfriend left as they rode away from the slaughter. As far as he could tell, the lad hadn’t wasted time heading north after slaughtering Reg and Killem. Three horses, which matched up: Creamy Girl, Highstepper, and Coppertail, the horse the lad brought to the livery stable according to Obermatt. The trail led to a stream a few klicks north and the conclusion was obvious. The lad and his girlfriend cleaned up after the fight. Interestingly, they had not gone skinny-dipping together, based on two sets of footprints separated by a concealing bend in the stream. Very interestingly, someone had dropped a gold ring set with pearls on the edge of the stream.</p>
<p>The sheriff held the ring, turning it this way and that, mesmerized by the pearls. He’d never seen real pearls before but these were real. The luster, the iridescence, the glimmer as if lit from within spoke plain. Painted glass or carved bone never looked like this. He’d have to send a message to his counterpart in Weer. The lad with the braid down to his ass had come north. He studied the ring again and felt his heart seize at its beauty.</p>
<p>He wouldn’t mention the ring or pearls. He’d agreed not to mention the connection between the scruffy lad and Reg and Killem. He smiled at the ring, entranced by the living sheen of the pearls. The scruffy lad and his girlfriend matched the Weer sheriff’s description and that was all he needed for his report. The pearl ring could remain hidden. And his.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. With any luck, we’ll rescue living hostages instead of defiled corpses.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You understand why I need my name kept out of this, but I must have the Orlov reward money,” Mr. Obermatt stated. “I can’t stay in business if I don’t claim it. I am too close to being forsworn as it is.”</p><p>“Got it,” Major Achebe replied. “I’ll pass the coin on to you. But I expect a favor in the future.”</p><p>“Of course,” Mr. Obermatt replied genially. “What are relatives for? Speaking of which, how’s my favorite nephew doing in school?”</p><hr/><p>“Well,” the sheriff of Weer said to his two deputies, after reading the report from his counterpart in Eljinn. “Interesting. That scruffy supposed pearl thief made it to Eljinn.”</p><p>“Any mention of stolen pearls, sir?” one of his deputies asked.</p><p>“Nope, not a word.”</p><p>“So Eddie lied?”</p><p>“I honestly do not know,” the sheriff replied thoughtfully. “It’s out of character for Eddie to do anything that doesn’t benefit him.”</p><hr/><p>Dimitri stomped into Parminder Investigations as soon as the secretary unlocked the office front door for the day. He ignored her trying to scurry around him to warn Mr. Parminder and John RedHawk. He had spent a miserable night evading Madame Orlov’s demands that he do more. She’d never haunted his dreams before the sot lost the Pearls. Since then, she’d shown up once in a while — although not nearly as frequently as he told the sot — but last night, she had been unrelenting.</p><p>“My lord Orlov,” RedHawk called out as soon as the door opened. He waved a letter at Dimitri. “We just received news about Fen HighTower and Miss Yilanda.”</p><p>Dimitri stopped in his tracks. “You found her?” Hope bloomed in his face.</p><p>“No, my lord, but we know she was in Eljinn with Fen HighTower. Hard evidence from the sheriff <em>and</em> an eyewitness in Eljinn who insists on anonymity. They want the reward.”</p><p>RedHawk stopped to watch Dimitri. The lordling looked as though he’d been struck by an order from beyond the grave. The blood had drained from his face, leaving him ashy.</p><p>“Is the report credible?” Dimitri asked, his voice shaking. Was this why Madame Orlov had visited him last night? He was going insane because the bitch wasn’t real. Dreams lied all the time. Stress and pressure were screaming at him, along with the sot, his relatives in Orlov, and Matsuda in Barsoom. Her presence was a coincidence.</p><p>“Yes, my lord. Very credible.”</p><p>“Go. Interrogate the witnesses. Pay them after you extract every possible fact. Leave now.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” RedHawk replied.</p><hr/><p>Back on the street, Dimitri headed for the nearest café where he could sit and think in peace. The café was conveniently located so he could watch Parminder Investigations’ office door while remaining unnoticed. The waiter recognized him from earlier visits and brought him his usual order of tea and buckwheat blinis heaped with smoked fish and sour cream. The food was familiar, comforting, calming; after a few blinis, his brain settled.</p><p>He waited anxiously in case Ulla DelFino showed up. The harpy had an uncanny ability to pop up when she was least wanted. He should have ordered RedHawk not to tell the harpy that they finally had hard, eyewitness evidence of Lannie’s whereabouts. But that would have raised suspicions. RedHawk knew as well as he did that Ulla was desperate to find Lannie and willing to spend her own coin, putting in the hours and legwork for free.</p><p>Should he send word to her or Iolanthe and Charlton? Dimitri finished his blinis and decided on no. Ulla had made it plain. She didn’t care if the Pearls of Orlov were scattered to the four winds if that meant finding Lannie. She’d race to Eljinn, get to Lannie first, and fling the Pearls out the window of the train for spite. His best friend wanted his sister back, not the Pearls returned home where they belonged. His sister was DelFino now. Her loyalty lay with her new husband and not with her brother and father. Anything he told Iolanthe would be repeated to Charlton and then Ulla.</p><p>And DelFino.</p><p>RedHawk had reported that other people were asking discreet questions about Lannie’s whereabouts. Zachery knew Lannie had stolen the Pearls and it stood to reason that the daimyo of DelFino saw a glorious, pearl-encrusted opportunity to enrich his own demesne if he found Lannie first. Dimitri could still hear Zachery in the cathedral gleefully contemplating the possibility of the Pearls of DelFino.</p><p>He drummed his fingers on the table, while noticing the red wine the waiter was pouring out for another customer. The hour was appallingly early for alcohol but he could feel himself craving it. It was the increasing stress of living with the sot and that damned rotted ham. That was the reason, it had to be.</p><p>He’d have to inform the sot. Dimitri watched the wine enter the glass, splashing up the side like a miniature red flood and felt a happy notion settle over him. Yes, telling the sot might induce him to start drinking again. Maybe this time the sot’s liver would fail and one major problem would be removed, although others crowded the wings. The sot was yammering about taking the train to Ranaglia, to wait for Yilanda no matter how long it took. If she caught wind of him near her relatives — who owed zero loyalty to Orlov — she’d vanish into the steppes with that scruffy stablehand again.</p><p>She’d take the Pearls with her, assuming Ranaglia didn’t steal them first.</p><p>There was also no telling what Ranaglia would do with the sot raving and staggering in their midst, demanding hospitality and instant obedience to his every whim. He and Orlov wouldn’t get lucky and have someone in Ranaglia murder the sot. Orlov would get unluckier as still more questions were raised about the demesne’s business dealings and credibility.</p><p>Dimitri began idly playing with the table knife. It would be so easy, so satisfying to knife the sot but things were not yet ready at home. With each passing day that the sot remained in Barsoom, papa, Uncle Ljubo, and Morley unearthed more debts, more promissory notes, more troubles the sot had embroiled the demesne in and worse, many of those problems would be made public as soon as word got out that the sot was dead. The vicious khuyesosh had been clever enough to make bills come due at his death. Or perhaps he had been stupid enough to be manipulated by clever merchants.</p><p>Either way, Orlov and its people would suffer.</p><p>He had to get the Pearls back. With the Pearls and the sot both safely home in Orlov, he would strangle the sot with his bare hands, enjoying every minute of his death struggles. Then Pearls could be sold, gradually and quietly, and the demesne put back on a firmer foundation.</p><p>But only if he found the Pearls of Orlov.</p><hr/><p>“Lannie,” Fen said. They’d spent the day riding north, paralleling the Pole-To-Pole Road on the eastern side, separated by enough of the steppes to remain hidden. They’d talked and talked and talked and were reaching some conclusions.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“At the next waystation, you need to send a postcard home. I think your brother and your cousin Ulla care more than you believe. Your mama was too sick to understand what was going on. Ulla running off at the last minute isn’t in character.” He groaned and glowered, looking like he was faced with swallowing rotted, maggot-crawling meat or starve. “Your brother too. Write to them and let them know you’re all right. After that, I want to limit our waystation stops so we vanish.”</p><p>“Um,” Lannie said. “We can’t do that. We’ll have to stop a lot for the next few days.”</p><p>“Why? We’ve got days of mil-rats thanks to you asking Mr. Obermatt.”</p><p>“It’s the water. I need it.”</p><p>“We’ve got skins full.”</p><p>“That won’t be enough.”</p><p>He turned to stare at her. Her face was dark with embarrassment.</p><p>“Is there a problem?”</p><p>“I have a confession to make.”</p><p>“<em>Another</em> one?”</p><p>“I can’t help it! It’s my body doing this to me! You think I want to do this? I don’t!” she snarled back. “We’re out in the middle of nowhere and I <em>need</em> the water.”</p><p>He waved a disapproving hand at her.</p><p>“I know you got Mr. Obermatt to swear he wouldn’t talk but there was a whole livery stable full of stablehands who saw us and they didn’t make a promise to you, plus Orlov is looking for both of us. I don’t want to stop more than is absolutely necessary.”</p><p>“But you want me to mail a postcard.”</p><p>“Yes, Lannie, I do. Your family, at least some of them, must be going crazy with worry. But that’s one postcard in a mailbox and no one will see you, because I’ll drop it in myself.”</p><p>“I have to have water. By myself. Waystations have facilities.”</p><p>“We’ve got the steppes for facilities! What is the matter with you?” Fen asked heatedly. “Those waystation facilities are filthy and you know it! Every single one you’ve walked into, you walked right back out!”</p><p>She took a long time answering.</p><p>“It’s my cycle,” Lannie muttered, staring straight ahead and refusing to look at Fen.</p><p>“Your what?”</p><p>“I have to wash out my monthlies.”</p><p>“Your… Oh. That.”</p><p>Fen could feel his entire body burn with embarrassment. He should have realized. Lannie had a woman’s body; his own body reminded him constantly of that fact. He’d caught the faintest whiff of blood, overlaid by other, worse odors. He’d assumed it came from Reg and Killem’s boots, tied to Coppertail’s baggage, alongside Lannie’s old boots and the saddlebag holding the Pearls of Orlov. From the smell wafting out of Reg and Killem’s boots, they’d never washed their feet and rarely changed their socks. He hadn’t gotten all the blood cleaned off their boots either.</p><p>“Yes. That. We have to stop. They’ve got washboards so I can get my monthly cloths clean. I’ve got some, but not as many as I would at home and I’m about to run out! I can’t throw them away. I have to wash them so I can use them over and over.”</p><p>She glared at him. “It’s not fun. Dirty cloths make it even less fun.”</p><p>“I might be able to find a stream,” he offered.</p><p>“And how often do you find a stream?” she shrieked. “That one stream we washed in after Reg and Killem was the only stream I’ve seen since I met you! If they were easy to find, you wouldn’t be stopping at waystations for water and it’s not like I can use the horse troughs because everyone will point at me and laugh when they aren’t complaining to the waystation keeper!"</p><p>Damnation. He could not argue her point. They rode along silently, her fuming, him contemplating being seen at every single damn waystation for days and wondering if girls were worth the trouble, and both of them embarrassed.</p><p>“Right,” Fen said, breaking the angry silence some time later. “Just be quick, yeah?”</p><hr/><p>When they finally arrived at the next waystation, Lannie insisted she would be quick. While Fen waited, he watered all three horses, rinsed and refilled all the waterskins, and wrote several carefully worded postcards home. He debated about asking for another box of mil-rats although they had several days left. Eventually he decided to ask since the waystation keeper had already spoken to him and it would be more suspicious if he didn’t ask for mil-rats when everyone else did. He grimly signed his name on the receipt, while thinking he needed to start lying.</p><p>Maybe he should use Theo’s name. Theo wouldn’t mind. He’d think it was funny.</p><p>All the while, other customers at the waystation eyed him, his beads and braid, and his three horses. No one spoke to <em>him</em> but it was uncomfortable. Their hostile attention reinforced his choice to get horses other than Creamy Girl and Highstepper. They were wonderful horses, but they would have drawn even more attention than Coppertail, Tabasco, and Handsome did.</p><p>Once finished with the water and mil-rats, he checked to see how worried he should be about being noticed. Lannie still hadn’t returned.</p><p>The waystation bulletin board was weather-beaten and hadn’t been updated recently so there was no wanted poster about him or Lannie. That was something positive. There was a huge poster of Reg and Killem, dwarfing all the other posters. So. Word hadn’t got this far yet about their deaths. Mr. Obermatt and the Eljinn sheriff weren’t moving very fast. Not using Creamy Girl and Highstepper turned into an even smarter decision, since, amazingly, they each had a descriptive poster of their own. Those posters warned that if the horses were around, Reg and Killem wouldn’t be far away. They also warned that their riders should be shot on sight.</p><p>While he waited some more, he studied the wanted posters for a host of outlaws, although none of them listed a litany of atrocities like Reg and Killem’s poster did. He’d have to keep a wary eye out.</p><p>He was on the verge of asking the waystation keeper to check when Lannie finally stomped back from the women’s wing, carrying a damp bundle of no longer white cloth. She looked furious.</p><p>“Do you want a postcard?” he offered. “For your mama?”</p><p>“Sure. Why not,” she snarled. “If anyone comes looking, they’ll know we were here. This woman tried to steal my cloths the second I turned my back and I slapped her and the waystation keeper’s wife had to intervene. She ripped into both of us and every other woman in the washroom was talking about me when I left.”</p><p>“What were you supposed to do?”</p><p>“Darned if I know,” Lannie grumbled. “I’ve never washed monthly cloths in a waystation before. Or ever! The maids did it! I’ll write to mama and Charlton. And to Ulla. I bet Ulla knows what to do with monthly cloths in a waystation.”</p><p>“We’re traveling a lot faster with the horses,” Fen said. “It won’t matter.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right. Fen? The woman who tried to steal my cloths said there were bandits lurking about and she hoped they grabbed me, because I talked and acted so uppity, not like a normal person.”</p><p>“Terrific. I’ll look for streams.”</p><hr/><p>John RedHawk settled into his lower second-class seat and reviewed his notes. He would arrive in Eljinn at the end of the day. He blessed Mr. Parminder again for requiring him to always keep a bag packed and ready to go. After the Orlov lordling left, he’d briefed Mr. Parminder, picked up his luggage, left for the train station and caught the next train north. Finally. He was getting close. He might even discover what Orlov was hiding from him when he spoke to Miss Yilanda. The messages he’d sent to the Eljinn police department, sheriff’s office, and Internal Security guaranteed they’d all be looking for Miss Yilanda and Fen HighTower. He’d stop at Weer on the return trip on the off-chance their sheriff, a canny man, heard something different.</p><p>And Merreth. His stringer had reported that Jennet Quispe had dinner with Charlton, Iolanthe, and Ulla DelFino in the most expensive restaurant in Merreth. If he approached her carefully, she’d tell him what they discussed, just like Winnie and Tevy had.</p><hr/><p>Dimitri returned from the café by Parminder Investigations and caught Rastislav in his office, making plans to travel to Ranaglia. Matsuda and Albion were patiently listening as Rastislav bragged about how the daimyo of Ranaglia would welcome him as an honored guest. Ranaglia would provide him with the best accommodations and the finest services while he waited for Yilanda.</p><p>Damnation, Dimitri thought.</p><p>“My lord daimyo,” he said. “Good news.”</p><p>“You found them,” Rastislav said. “You found her.” He leaped to his feet, scattering papers across his desk.</p><p>“No, but we have the first hard evidence.”</p><p>Rastislav strode over to Dimitri and slapped him, hard. “Then why isn’t Yilanda standing in front of me? No! On her <em>knees</em> in front of me begging for mercy? You idiot! You oaf! You worthless failure!”</p><p>Dimitri stood frozen, his ears ringing, and a red haze descended over his eyes. He lunged at the sot, slapping him back harder followed by a deeply satisfying punch to the kidneys.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” Matsuda intoned. “You must stop.”</p><p>“My dearest friend attacked by a member of his own family!” Albion cried. “Dimitri, if you kill him, I will have to inform the Barsoom police of your crimes.” He flung himself to the floor, weeping and flailing, while staying carefully out of the line of fire. “You must stop or be found guilty of treason to your demesne!” he wailed.</p><p>Matsuda’s calm voice did not penetrate but Albion’s histrionics did.</p><p>Dimitri forced himself to back away from the sot, cringing and swearing on the floor. He was cradling the wrist that Charlton had twisted at the cathedral against his belly, his dominant hand’s wrist. The hand the sot had just used slapping him only to discover that it wasn’t fully healed. There was the answer. Dimitri grabbed the sot’s wrist, wrenching him up from the floor, and did what Charlton had not. He viciously broke Rastislav’s wrist, snapping little bones and tearing tendons. The sot screamed like a rabbit in its death throes.</p><p>“On your feet!” Dimitri snarled at the sot. “The family has been clear. You may not leave the townhouse until they approve.”</p><p>“Insolent whelp,” Rastislav grated out. “I will have you beaten for this.” Tears stood out in his eyes as pain seared up his arm to his shoulder. His gut burned and he wanted to vomit. He’d be pissing blood for days if the pain radiating from his kidney was any indication.</p><p>“And who is going to do that? You?” Dimitri sneered. “Madame Orlov spoke to me last night. You may not leave. I may not leave. Not yet. <em>She</em> will tell us when. In the meantime, go drink yourself to death so you can meet <em>her</em> faster. <em>And</em> your father and grandfather.”</p><p>Rastislav cringed back further. “I will kill you for this.”</p><p>Dimitri showed his teeth like an enraged bear. He loomed over the sot, young, strong, vital. “Try it, you drunken, purblind fool. Give me the excuse I need to grind you into paste. The family would approve. <em>She</em> would approve.”</p><p>“By your leave, Dimitri,” Albion said in as placating a voice as he could manage. Barking mad, they were all barking mad and he was trapped in the cage with them until he picked the lock and escaped, locking them in to tear each other apart. “Let me summon a doctor for my dearest friend and the father of my grandchildren.” He wrung his hands like an anguished damsel in a melodrama.</p><p>“It would be for the best, my lord,” Matsuda said. “If I may?”</p><p>“Go.”</p><p>Dimitri watched Matsuda and Albion escort the swearing, sweating sot out of the office and away from the skynet connection he needed. RedHawk’s trip to Eljinn would be expensive. Paying the reward for information would be more expensive. He had to update papa, Uncle Ljubo, and Morley. He needed privacy for what he had to say and now, he had it.</p><p>Pearls would have to be sold.</p><hr/><p>“Is this information credible?” Uncle Ljubo asked warily.</p><p>“RedHawk believes it is. He will arrive in Eljinn at sunset,” Dimitri replied.</p><p>“He does not know about our true situation?” papa asked. He looked even more wary. And haggard.</p><p>“No, Matsuda’s son, Clancy, has fed him false information twice about the true nature of the Pearls. RedHawk believes the pearls seen in the cathedral were fake and the true Pearls never left Orlov.”</p><p>“Very good, Dimitri. Pass our thanks along to Matsuda and his son.”</p><p>“Yes, papa. How many true Pearls are left?”</p><p>“Enough. For now. We will sell the private railcar next.”</p><p>“There are paintings and other art works on our lists,” Morley added. “Have Matsuda make an inventory of everything in the townhouse that can be discreetly sold. I do have good news. The taro harvest has been as good as the yam harvest so our serfs will eat well.”</p><p>“We may be eating the taro and yams along with the serfs, my son,” papa said. “Find the Pearls.”</p><hr/><p>John RedHawk arrived in Eljinn as expected. He did not expect to have a major in Internal Security waiting for him at the train station. Had Lorenzo gotten into trouble for telling him that the spy-eyes dotted all over the government corridors were useless?</p><p>But no. Major Achebe knew the eyewitness who had reported seeing Miss Yilanda and a scruffy lad from the Ennaretee.</p><p>“The witness must remain anonymous, RedHawk,” Major Achebe said. “Or be forsworn.”</p><p>“I see,” RedHawk replied, although he did not. If the witness had sworn not to tell, hinting around in order to collect a reward didn’t seem like honoring his oath. “Tell me what you can and I’ll work from there.”</p><p>“Over dinner. The last few days have been busy. At the same time your runaway bride showed up, we received an anonymous tip about Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne.” Major Achebe grinned at RedHawk’s expression.</p><p>“We get Barsoom news in Eljinn and while waiting for your train, I took the time to read the newspaper stories and our own message traffic about Yilanda DelFino and the daimyo of Orlov.”</p><p>“Internal Affairs keeps tabs on the Four Hundred?” RedHawk asked, knowing he sounded like a moron. On the other hand, acting dumb regularly paid off.</p><p>“Naturally. They throw their weight around in the government corridors while remaining above the law.” Major Achebe bared his teeth. “Over-entitled pack of sods. But sometimes we can apply the law to them.”</p><p>“Will this be one of those times?”</p><p>“There is always hope. I trust you don’t mind us being interrupted frequently. The sheriff and I have all our men out searching for Reg and Killem’s hideout, along with volunteers from the Eljinn police department. We don’t know what’s waiting for us. With any luck, we’ll rescue living hostages instead of defiled corpses.”</p><p>“That bad?”</p><p>“Oh my yes.” Major Achebe gave RedHawk a happy smile. “Someone took care of a major burden for us. Unfortunately, their absence leaves a power vacuum. Other outlaws will grow bolder now that Reg and Killem aren’t around so we are also preparing for this new problem.”</p><p>“They didn’t like interference?” RedHawk asked.</p><p>“They tolerated jackals and other carrion-eaters. Wolves got driven off. We expect much more banditry along the Corridors as word spreads.”</p><p>“I’ve heard of Reg and Killem. This sounds interesting. You’ll have to bring me up to date.” Damnation. I hadn’t considered this possibility, RedHawk thought. If bandits get Miss Yilanda before we find her, Orlov will destroy Parminder Investigations, starting with me.</p><p>“This case is unrelated to your runaway bride case, RedHawk.”</p><p>“No doubt. However, I’ve found that information is always worthwhile.” RedHawk suddenly laughed. “I don’t see how they could be related. My quarry is keeping company with a scruffy teenager. A lad like Fen HighTower wouldn’t go near Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne. He’d be dead before he hit the ground.”</p><p>“Yes,” Major Achebe agreed smoothly. “He certainly would.”</p><hr/><p>“RedHawk agreed to share information about Fen HighTower in exchange for help locating him and that runaway bride of theirs,” Major Achebe said. He’d stopped by the sheriff of Eljinn’s office after the dinner meeting. Despite the late hour, the sheriff’s office was a kicked-over anthill of activity.</p><p>“Good. He’ll get leads we won’t. He doesn’t know that HighTower got Reg and Killem?”</p><p>Major Achebe threw his head back and laughed. “Not him! He’s sure a scrawny teenager is harmless. RedHawk’s a parochial, train-traveling city boy, Barsoom born and bred. He’s never set foot outside civilization and doesn’t know what a Steppes Rider is capable of.”</p><p>“Even better. We’ll be able to keep Hans Obermatt out of this mess. I’d sure like to know how the lad managed to stay alive and I’d like to know even more where that third pair of empty boots came from. You don’t suppose we’ll get lucky where he killed another of our problem bandits instead of murdering an honest citizen? Steppes Riders can be touchy where potential wives are concerned. Hans said Fen was acting that way.”</p><p>“I don’t wish to speculate,” Major Achebe replied. “Not enough data. I’m certainly not going to tell RedHawk that if HighTower gets his way, he and his Orlov clients will never see Yilanda DelFino again.”</p><p>“No. Those girls don’t come back.”</p><hr/><p>At the end of a very long day, settled in his hotel room in Eljinn, RedHawk reviewed the stack of interviews and reports. He deduced that the livery stable owner, Hans Obermatt, was the anonymous witness, because everyone else in the livery stable was willing to talk. Some of them were so eager to talk they didn’t have to be motivated with coin. He left with good descriptions of Fen HighTower, fresh descriptions of Miss Yilanda, and descriptions of their horses.</p><p>The strange part was that once again, Fen HighTower had managed to disappear. No one had seen him, Miss Yilanda, or their three horses heading north out of Eljinn. The boulevard the livery stable was located on was several klicks long and lined with potential witnesses all the way to its junction with the 10° Latitude Road, yet nothing. Everyone he spoke to buzzed with speculation about Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne and who had slaughtered them. A pair of runaways wasn’t nearly as interesting.</p><p>The real worry now, for RedHawk, was HighTower persuading Miss Yilanda to go home with him rather than beg sanctuary in Ranaglia. If so, they might take the convenient 10° Latitude Road east to the Nourz to Panschin Corridor. It was a logical route, taking advantage of the warmer weather closer to the equator and delaying the journey north until later in the year. That doubled the amount of territory Parminder Investigations would have to search.</p><p>He might be borrowing trouble. It was still far more likely that Miss Yilanda was heading to her relatives in Ranaglia. RedHawk referred back to the map. There was a major waystation at the intersection of the Pole-To-Pole Road and the 10° Latitude Road. A stringer had reported that Fen HighTower signed for mil-rats at several waystations between Barsoom and Eljinn. It was worth checking the waystations north of Eljinn as well as the 10° Latitude Road to the east.</p><p>The costs of this investigation kept mounting upwards.</p><p>It didn’t make sense to RedHawk how much coin Orlov was spending to retrieve an unwilling young lady. He didn’t believe for an instant that Rastislav was desperately in love with Miss Yilanda. The man had a decidedly unsavory track record. There was some other reason, probably the one Dimitri Orlov was lying about. In the meantime, it looked like Fen HighTower and Miss Yilanda were stopping at waystations for mil-rats. That didn’t make sense either. Young ladies of the Four Hundred did not eat mil-rats. On the other hand, young ladies of the Four Hundred didn’t run off with scruffy stablehands from livery stables.</p><p>Nothing about this case made sense, but he was getting closer to facts. He was only a few days behind Miss Yilanda and Fen HighTower. He’d meet her at last, although the thought of dragging her back to the daimyo of Orlov was… becoming more unpleasant by the day. He’d also meet Fen HighTower and discover how a scruffy teenager with a braid hanging down to his ass and beads in his hair managed to avoid being seen by hundreds of potential witnesses.</p><hr/><p>“At last,” Iolanthe said and held up a letter in triumph.</p><p>“Someone actually wrote to you?” Naomi asked sweetly.</p><p>“Many people write to me, dear Naomi,” Iolanthe replied. “Just like I write to them in return. If you want letters, you have to respond to the ones you get. I’ve never heard of you getting letters from anyone.”</p><p>“I get letters,” Naomi said and pouted at the centerpiece of trailing grasses and vines dotted with tiny yellow flowers. Even when sulking and petulant, Naomi remained more beautiful than a garden of flowers.</p><p>“You shouldn’t frown like that, dear Naomi,” Constance said unexpectedly. “Frowning makes wrinkles. They’re so aging.” She returned to her embroidery (an arrangement of gloriosa lilies and birds of paradise), her duties as hostess done for the day.</p><p>Iolanthe glanced over at her mother-in-law. As she’d feared, Constance had done little to host Walter and Naomi, other than make sure flowers were beautifully arranged on every flat surface in the manor. This speech was unexpected and a mark of how irritating Naomi was: Constance had noticed. She was still recovering from Mistress Vaughn’s poisoned tisanes, but Iolanthe was coming to believe that Constance’s normal state was dreamy and unfocused. If you weren’t a beautiful flower or a lovely piece of art, she didn’t pay attention. No wonder Charlton’s manor house was in such a state. Constance never noticed when the rain beat in through open windows and soaked the carpets.</p><p>Dreamy vagueness was still better than Constance’s other current mode of behavior: weeping and wailing over Lannie’s disappearance and begging Charlton to rescue his sister, no matter what it cost everyone else. Sometimes, to vary the mood, Constance wailed over Albion’s affair with Mistress Vaughn and asked what she had done to him to force him to his dire crimes. Constance’s wailing over Albion, however, was decreasing in frequency and volume as she gradually accepted that her former husband was rotten to the core and it had nothing to do with her.</p><p>She refused to accept that Charlton was obligated to everyone on his estates and would forfeit his land and village if he failed in his duties.</p><p>“Do we have to eat yams and rabbit every night?” Naomi complained and pushed her plate away.</p><p>“We’re poor, dear Naomi,” Iolanthe said, forced again to pay attention to her unwanted houseguest. “All of our money has to go into the estate. Khan has been so generous with your dowry. Walter won’t let you eat rabbit. Or yams.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Naomi muttered. “None of this is what I wanted.” She stroked her stomach, ever so slightly rounder than the last time Iolanthe had seen Naomi.</p><p>So, Iolanthe thought. Naomi passed the critical third month without a miscarriage, meaning Walter wouldn’t be the father of his firstborn child. At least she’d be able to keep all her children from now on. Cressida had written that Naomi had been livid over giving up her firstborn son. That might be another reason why Naomi had been so eager to marry Walter. That, at least, was a positive reason. She wondered — a moment of intense, stabbing envy — if she would ever have babies like Naomi would.</p><p>“What is your letter, Iolanthe?” Constance asked, looking up from her tangle of scarlet, orange, purple and gold silks.</p><p>A red-letter day, Iolanthe thought. Her mother-in-law was paying attention.</p><p>“An introduction to someone in Gish. That’s an agricultural demesne on the boundary with the Ennaretee. Someone there will have a penpal further north.”</p><p>“That’s right,” Naomi sneered. “All you wallflowers write each other because you wouldn’t have a social life otherwise.”</p><p>“Wallflowers are lovely,” Constance said with a wistful smile. “We grew them in spring and fall in Ranaglia. They don’t like the heat here near the equator. They are delightful and have the most delicate perfume. They grow in stone walls in the most charming manner. That’s why we call them wallflowers,” she concluded brightly.</p><p>Naomi gaped at her.</p><p>“You must tell us more about wallflowers,” Iolanthe chirped. “I’ve never seen one before.”</p><p>As hoped, Constance launched into one of her favorite subjects: flowers. While she spoke rapturously about wallflowers, their range of colors, leaf shapes, preferred habitats, and best uses in floral arrangements and embroideries, Iolanthe planned her response to a possible penpal in Gish and how she’d ask for a referral to someone in HighTower. There had to be a wallflower who wrote letters up there. It was so far to the north that there wouldn’t be much else to do during the endless winters.</p><p>This was also the answer about how to entertain Naomi while Charlton and Walter traipsed around in the wilderness with Jorge. They wouldn’t return from their camping and surveying expedition for weeks. Constance would be delighted to tell Naomi about every kind of flower that grew on Mars and never notice when Naomi tuned her out.</p><p>The more time Iolanthe spent with Naomi, the more appealing spending weeks on end camping out in the rain and eating rough became. Like Lannie was doing, somewhere out in the Pole-To-Pole Corridor with Fen HighTower. Assuming she was still alive.</p><p>Maybe Walter was still alive too. Jorge wouldn’t let Charlton kill Walter, although accidents did happen.</p><p>A few days later, the mail delivery included postcards from Lannie for both Charlton and Constance.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Then why don’t I see her handcuffed to you!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They’d have to stop at every damned waystation for a few more days. Fen wanted to groan but Lannie had been touchy on the subject so he kept his mouth shut. He brightened when he realized that there was one positive outcome. He could sign for mil-rats at each waystation. They were traveling much faster with three horses so they might hit two a day as they trekked north. He didn’t think waystation keepers compared notes so there was nothing to prevent him and Lannie from stocking up. That meant, once she didn’t have to stop at a waystation’s women’s facilities, they would disappear again. To make sure they weren’t spotted he wouldn’t just use Theo’s name. He’d use ruling family names from all over the Ennaretee, stonewalling possible investigators. He’d mix them up. It was lying, but necessary to get Lannie home safely.</p><p>Waystation keepers didn’t pay attention to someone pumping water at the horse trough and if they did, they didn’t keep written records. If he got lucky and found another stream, they wouldn’t be seen at all.</p><p>It was a given that Orlov would go to the trouble of sending someone to check waystations all the way to Northernmost. They’d have to not just limit waystation stops. They’d have to stay off the Pole-To-Pole Road altogether, traveling parallel through the steppes.</p><p>Fen couldn’t decide if that meant a greater risk of running into other outlaws like Reg and Killem or not. He hadn’t seen bandits on the trek south, but he’d taken his half out of the middle of the Pole-To-Pole Road. He’d slept in the steppes each night. He might have been lucky.</p><p>He glanced over at Lannie, keeping pace more easily on Handsome. Her riding improved every day, but she didn’t have the skills of an Ennaretee woman, born and bred. She wouldn’t be able to ride hell for leather for hours and escape pursuing outlaws. She couldn’t get the most out of a horse nor would she understand when it was time to stop or risk permanently injuring the animal.</p><p>Lannie was a lure for bandits all by herself, in a way that he had not been. Reg and Killem proved the point.</p><p>It was risky keeping to the steppes because no one would know if they were waylaid. No rescue would come. But if they remained on the Pole-To-Pole Road, they would pass hundreds of potential witnesses. Most of those witnesses would remain anonymous and unquestioned because Orlov couldn’t possibly hunt down and question every traveler from Barsoom to Northernmost. Even as rich as Orlov had to be, owning a prize as valuable as the Pearls, they couldn’t afford to interview everyone on Mars.</p><p>He and Lannie had to hide in the great swell of humanity plodding northwards. It would be hard to do. Few other travelers looked like he did. Coppertail was eye-catching and memorable. Handsome and Tabasco were less so, but not too many other travelers his age owned several horses, unless those horses were pulling wagons.</p><p>The best choice might be to swing in and out, depending on the land and the traffic. He wanted speed as well as anonymity and it was faster to travel on the road rather than forging a path through the steppes, a path that could be followed by anyone who was paying attention. How soon would it be before someone in Mr. Obermatt’s livery stable noticed their wanted posters and contacted Orlov? Or DelFino?</p><p>Not long. They had to get further north, as quickly as possible. Once they passed Fintney, the foot traffic would shrink to a trickle of its current self. They wouldn’t be able to hide in the crowd. He’d have to keep to the steppes up to Darnay. The Darnay to Robinsin Corridor was Ennaretee on both sides. The daimyos and their Hands patrolled for bandits. The steppes would be safe to travel through.</p><p>He glanced at Lannie again.</p><p>He could even claim sanctuary. He’d get permission to travel the southern boundaries of Lynch, Tanakada, Schuster, and then VanDenRooz before reaching HighTower. Except claiming sanctuary would risk someone discovering the Pearls. And Lannie.</p><p>Damnation. He had an aunt from Lynch, Uncle Macon’s wife, but he’d never been there himself. His connections to Tanakada and Schuster were more tenuous; mostly reputation and that was all they knew of him. VanDenRooz, on the other hand, he knew. They were part of HighTower’s quad and ninesquare. It would be great to see Theo again. That brought up another awkward thought. Could Theo be trusted around the Pearls?</p><p>No. No one could be trusted.</p><p>Or he could take the Fintney to Purnell Corridor. He knew something of Daur, Krangland, Armstrong, and Kenyatta thanks to his journey west through the corridor when he traveled to Barsoom. But then he and Lannie would still have to travel north up the Nourz to Panschin Corridor to get home.</p><p>The thought of turning east at Fintney felt wrong and he could see why. Bandits used the western end with impunity, based on that hideout they’d discovered. Yet Daur had done nothing to prevent outlaws, unlike what he knew of the Darnay to Robinsin Corridor. There was also the fact that Shelleen’s Red Mercury lode drew squatters from far and wide, filling the Fintney to Purnell Corridor and again, Daur did nothing to patrol their end. Krangland did more, but not much. Pello and Helion had been openly contemptuous, especially of Daur.</p><p>Whichever option he chose gave time to let Lannie know he cared about her and the Pearls of Orlov didn’t matter like she did. He wanted her and the lure of the Pearls had nothing to do with it. If anything, he wanted her more. Madre Winter, she had been brave and uncomplaining even while desperately afraid of being murdered.</p><p>Months of travel would give time to find out if there was someone she cared for although she had not said so. He could feel the kiss of happiness, like warm sun on a frosty morning. Lannie had not mentioned anyone because there was no one. Or if there was, that man hadn’t bothered to lift a finger to save her from the daimyo of Orlov.</p><p>That man, if he existed, had lost her. He could court Lannie and if he was careful with his words, she’d know he wanted her and not the Pearls of Orlov.</p><hr/><p>Iolanthe handed Constance the postcard and read the one Lannie mailed to Charlton. It was the same postcard as before; cheap cardstock discolored by terraformers and bearing the same watermark. These postcards, according to the village Postmaster, had been mailed at the same time from the first waystation north of the junction of the Pole-To-Pole Road and the 10° Latitude Road.</p><p>Lannie was alive. She was safe, fed, healthy. She was traveling and would write when she could.</p><p>When they traded postcards, the message was the same.</p><p>While Constance wept over proof that her daughter was still alive, Iolanthe considered carefully what Lannie wasn’t saying. Nothing about her destination. Nothing about Fen HighTower. Nothing about the Pearls, although that wasn’t a surprise.</p><p>“Can I read them?” Naomi asked.</p><p>“Why?” Iolanthe said. “You’ve never met Lannie.”</p><p>“Because I’m bored to tears? And you never met her either. Walter said you didn’t limp out from behind that screen at the cathedral until after Lannie disappeared into the chapel.”</p><p>“Lannie is my sister-in-law.”</p><p>“Mine too.” Naomi had a familiar, acquisitive gleam in her eyes. She held out her hand.</p><p>Iolanthe looked at her, looked at the postcard, and very thoughtfully handed it over. If nothing else, she’d prevent her unwanted houseguest from ogling the footmen for a few minutes. She watched Naomi pore over it, as if looking for clues. Either Naomi was very, very bored or she could barely read (Cressida had gone back and forth on the subject).</p><p>Or, more worryingly, Naomi had heard rumors from her Khan relatives about the current whereabouts of the Pearls of Orlov.</p><p>Naomi knew about the Pearls. Everyone from Barsoom to Easternmost did. But did Naomi know that the Pearls had vanished along with Lannie? If she did, then Khan knew. Iolanthe realized she would have to find out and pass the information along both to papa in Orlov and to Dimitri in Barsoom. Too bad Dimitri was being so unpleasant about passing along his own information. John RedHawk was, according to Ulla, thorough and dogged. It was likely Dimitri knew more about Lannie’s whereabouts than he was revealing, just as she and Charlton weren’t telling him what they knew.</p><p>The tangle of lies kept growing, larger and larger, strangling the truth. Dimitri might never forgive her. Neither would papa, or her other relatives in Orlov.</p><p>“Where is Lannie going?” Naomi asked at last. “She doesn’t say.”</p><p>“To Ranaglia, naturally,” Constance said.</p><p>“Why do you say that?” Naomi asked.</p><p>“Lannie loved it there. Where else would she go if she’s not coming home?” Constance replied absently, turning a postcard over and over in her hands.</p><p>“Where indeed,” Iolanthe said, thoughtfully tapping a pen on her notepad. Nothing she’d been told said Lannie was stupid even if she didn’t pay attention. Since Lannie wasn’t stupid but she was a Pearl thief, she wouldn’t reveal her final destination. Doing so ensured she’d be greeted by an angry reception committee and the Pearls repossessed. Nonetheless, the postmark revealed that she wasn’t traveling east on the 10° Latitude Road to come home. Or continue eastwards and turn north when she and Fen HighTower reached the Nourz to Panschin Corridor.</p><p>She would write to Ulla at once, passing along the information. They’d have to discuss where Lannie was going since she wasn’t saying. Did that mean that she was going to Ranaglia as they suspected? It seemed increasingly likely since if Fen HighTower was trying to get Lannie to come home with him, they would have turned eastward. By the time they reached the Nourz to Panschin Corridor, the weather for journeying northwards would have improved dramatically.</p><p>Traveling with one horse was hard enough. Traveling in bad weather was even more difficult and the further north you went, the worse the weather got. Even in high summer, the northern latitudes never really warmed up.</p><p>The bigger question was should she tell Dimitri? Yes, Iolanthe decided. Lannie didn’t write anything they didn’t already know. And if she told Dimitri, he might return the favor and pass information back, particularly when she added her speculations about rumors Khan knew about the loss of the Pearls of Orlov.</p><hr/><p>“This is the last time we need to stop,” Lannie said. “For me, I mean.”</p><p>“You’re sure?” Fen asked.</p><p>“I think so.” Lannie chewed on her lip as they left the waystation. Ulla had been insistent about better communication solving all issues and irritatingly, Ulla kept being proven right.</p><p>“Do you need the details?”</p><p>“<em>No!</em>”</p><p>Fen answered so fast she thought he prepared his answer in advance.</p><p>“Okay. How is Coppertail?”</p><p>“Much better. We can move faster now. No stops.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>Moving faster meant they wouldn’t be seen. She had to say it.</p><p>“The women in the women’s side were talking about me.”</p><p>Fen gasped and twisted to look at her. “What?”</p><p>“Not me in the women’s facility. Yilanda DelFino, runaway bride. They didn’t know it was me. None of them could understand why anyone would run away from marrying a rich daimyo.” Lannie could feel the embarrassment burn.</p><p>“They all said how it didn’t matter what someone like that wanted, as long as they could eat off gold plates and not work from morning till night. One woman…” her voice trailed off and then she sucked in her breath and continued on, grimly determined. “She talked about what she’d let him do. What she’d do to him in exchange. It sounded dee-sgusting. And <em>unsanitary</em>.” She gagged.</p><p>“You did the right thing,” Fen replied. “Those women can yap but they don’t know what the daimyo of Orlov was like. You do.”</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>“It’s done, Lannie. Second-guessing yourself will make you crazy. Unless you want to go back?”</p><p>She glared at him. “Never.” Her face softened. “I can’t.”</p><p>“Then quit this foolishness.”</p><p>“You sound like Charlton,” she said and smiled ruefully.</p><p>He wanted to gag and instead changed the subject. “You’ll be happy in HighTower, I swear it.”</p><p>She looked over at him and he wanted to fall into her luminous brown eyes, like falling into a pool of water on a hot day.</p><p>“Tell me more about it.”</p><p>Fen’s face lit up and she knew she had said the right thing. He loved HighTower and he wanted to share it with her. Except he never talked about wanting to really share HighTower with her, like a sweetheart would. His family must have a bride already picked out and she couldn’t believe the surge of jealousy that swept over her.</p><p>But it did.</p><p>Fen was becoming increasingly attractive. He was so thoughtful and sensible and he had not run mad and murdered her over the Pearls of Orlov. She couldn’t get a better recommendation than that. Every morning since she’d confessed to stealing them, she woke up alive and with him. He had not abandoned her on the steppes.</p><p>Lannie hoped his sweetheart in HighTower appreciated him the way she was; more every day.</p><hr/><p>“I’ve been thinking about what you said about your brother and Dimitri Orlov,” Fen said, breaking into the music of night on the steppes. “I believe you are correct. They know each other well and they had something planned with you and those Pearls.”</p><p>“Do you think Charlton meant it when he kept telling me don’t worry?” Lannie asked eagerly.</p><p>He stared at the fire thoughtfully, expressions flitting across his face along with shadows cast by the tiny flames. He sipped hot water and she waited impatiently.</p><p>“I think he did,” Fen told her reluctantly. “Based on everything you told me and what I saw at the livery stable, I think he cares very much but he was in a bind and couldn’t find another way out.” It was infuriating to ascribe positive motivations to Charlton ‘I get what I want’ DelFino but he couldn’t reach a different conclusion no matter how he tried.</p><p>“I wonder what happened to them. Charlton and mama. Walter and Ulla. Dimitri and his sister. Even daddy and that awful Rastislav.” Her voice was wistful and underlaid with sadness.</p><p>“When we get home to HighTower, we’ll find out,” Fen promised.</p><p>Months until I find out if I guessed right, Lannie thought. Months to go to find out if any of them care about me at all, other than because I stole the Pearls of Orlov. They care about <em>that</em>.</p><hr/><p>“Well?” Dimitri asked.</p><p>“Definitely her,” RedHawk replied. This time, he had not stopped at his flat to drop off his luggage or gone to Mr. Parminder’s office. He’d come directly to the Orlov townhouse from the train station.</p><p><a id="_Hlk62920891" name="_Hlk62920891"></a>“Then why don’t I see her handcuffed to you!” Dimitri screamed.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” RedHawk said in as soothing a voice as he could manage. “The report came after Miss Yilanda and HighTower left the livery stable in Eljinn. I do have good news. They did not take the 10° Latitude Road in either direction. They headed north on the Pole-To-Pole Road, as evidenced by HighTower’s signature for mil-rats.”</p><p>“Did anyone see <em>her</em>?” Dimitri forced out. Fools. He was surrounded by fools. “Is she still alive?”</p><p>“I believe so,” RedHawk said. “A young lady matching her description was seen in two women’s facilities at waystations, washing out her monthly lady’s needs.”</p><p>Dimitri forced his hands to his sides. He wanted to choke the man into unconsciousness. Or competence.</p><p>“Then why haven’t you found her?” he demanded.</p><p>“As soon as they finish at a waystation, they disappear into the traffic heading north. Moreover, I do not believe they are sleeping at waystations, although I can’t work out where else they would go,” RedHawk replied. “It is impossible to question the mass of humanity clogging the Pole-To-Pole Road. What we can do, what we are doing, is plastering the Pole-To-Pole Road with posters and fliers advertising rewards for sightings all the way to Northernmost.”</p><p>“Have any come in?”</p><p>“Yes, my lord. The overwhelming majority are, as you would expect, false,” RedHawk said. “I spent plenty of coin in Eljinn paying for information, rewards, artists, and printers. Mr. Parminder will expect reimbursement.”</p><p>“Yes, yes, I’ll write you a cheque,” Dimitri hissed. “Where is she going?”</p><p>“It appears to be Ranaglia after all.”</p><p>Dimitri sagged back into the office chair. He had commandeered the sot’s office. Rastislav was in his bedchamber upstairs, nursing his broken wrist and his injured kidney. Albion, that rotted ham, was entertaining him by performing all the parts from some ridiculous melodrama. It kept the both of them from interfering and it was cheap. Worryingly, the sot wasn’t drowning his pain in wine. Was it possible the sot and Albion were planning something? Dimitri impatiently dismissed the absurd notion to focus on what to do next.</p><p>“Have Parminder hire men to line the road connecting Ranaglia to the Pole-To-Pole Road. You must retrieve Miss Yilanda. The daimyo insists.”</p><p>RedHawk glanced around the office. A painting he had noticed on an earlier visit was missing, as was a handsome piece of sculpture that once graced a now-empty niche. Other art had vanished as well, in every room and hall in the Orlov townhouse he glimpsed during his journey from the front door. Pearl and crystal ornaments no longer crowded the display cabinets on either side of Dimitri’s desk.</p><p>“It will be expensive,” he said.</p><p>“I, <em>we</em> do not care. Find her,” Dimitri said. “HighTower as well. <em>Before</em> she sets foot in Ranaglia.” Where she and the Pearls will be lost forever.</p><p>“They have three horses but even so, it will take weeks before they arrive,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“Now. I want men waiting for her.”</p><p>“It will be done,” RedHawk said, surer than ever that something else was going on besides the daimyo’s insane lust for a young woman.</p><hr/><p>“Thank you, Ulla,” Zachery said. “You may go.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Ulla replied. She paused at the door. “You are looking for Lannie, I hope? The family is talking. Ottilie is right about that.”</p><p>“As I expected. You may go.”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” Ulla replied and closed the daimyo’s office door behind her with more force than absolutely necessary.</p><p>Zachery sat back, able to relax in the privacy of an almost empty office behind a closed door. His personal assistant slid out from behind the screen.</p><p>“Ulla’s postcard from Lannie gives us old information but confirms that Yilanda is still alive. Arrange for a reception committee to meet Yilanda on the road to Ranaglia. I want the Pearls.”</p><p>“And Miss Yilanda, my lord?” his assistant asked.</p><p>“If you can manage to bring her home, do so. However, the Pearls of DelFino take precedence. Stop in Eljinn and see if you can locate that anonymous tipster. Squeeze out more information about her traveling companion. Do not let anyone from Orlov know what you are doing. I am certain they have men waiting to capture Yilanda.”</p><p>Zachery steepled his fingers and gazed up at the ceiling of his office, painted to look like a summer sky over DelFino Castle.</p><p>“I suspect that Ulla knows more about Yilanda’s traveling partner than she is admitting. She and Charlton do not trust that what I am doing is for the greater good of DelFino. Have her discreetly followed.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><p>“Do remember that you have a family waiting for you in DelFino Castle, a family whose wellbeing depends on your loyalty.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><hr/><p>Reducing their stops had been a great idea, Fen thought. Lannie remained out of sight while he watered all three horses and refilled the skins. She didn’t see the posters looking for them both. He did. He got stares and he couldn’t tell if it was more than usual because of the wanted posters or not. No one asked.</p><p>Eventually someone would notice. But they had to have water. They needed to travel differently.</p><p>Maybe the solution was to take the next eastward corridor until they reached the next longitude corridor and turn north. Except he knew something of the Pole-To-Pole Road and nothing of the other longitude corridors other than the Nourz to Panschin Road. It was almost a guarantee those roads had less traffic. They had to hide somehow, where his strangeness and her face wouldn’t be commented on.</p><p>Something would turn up. He hoped.</p><hr/><p>Damnation, Ulla thought, glaring at the letter in her hand. Another introduction that went nowhere. She had been sure that writing to Silas’s aunt Millicent would do the trick. Millicent had certainly bragged enough about her Mars-wide web of correspondents during her weeks in Avongale. Every single day’s mail brought correspondence for Millicent. Yet Millicent hadn’t given her a single lead to anyone in the Ennaretee, despite Avongale being closer to the Ennaretee than to the Equator. That demesne truly was out in the middle of nowhere.</p><p>But Silas, along with plenty of other relatives confirmed Millicent’s boast. She didn’t have a good handle on the accuracy of other Avongale relatives — she barely knew them — but she knew Silas. He wouldn’t be wrong.</p><p>So. Millicent probably had a correspondent or three in the Ennaretee but for reasons of her own was being deliberately obtuse.</p><p>Ulla groaned aloud. She’d have to speak to Ottilie again and add another favor to the debt side of her ledger. Ottilie would know what Millicent wanted in exchange for information. Although she could probably guess, despite her lack of imagination. Millicent, like the rest of Avongale’s senior people, wanted her to make a decision about Silas.</p><p>They wanted her, Ulla DelFino, to marry in, bringing along her dowry, her connections, her talents, her energy, and herself. It was the right thing to do, the sensible, dutiful thing to do.</p><p>It might mean finding Lannie. Except Lannie had to be heading to Ranaglia based on her postcard’s postmark. But would Lannie do that? She hadn’t done anything anyone expected since the cathedral.</p><p>The realization was uncomfortable. She couldn’t count on Lannie going to Ranaglia but she could definitely count on Ranaglia’s reception if they discovered the Pearls. Lannie wasn’t stupid and she might figure out her peril in time to leap sideways.</p><p>Ulla stared at the letter in her hand again, wanting to crumple it into a ball. She knew her duty. She knew what was expected of her and she always met those expectations.</p><p>Silas was a good man and if she hadn’t met Yair Buruk, she would not hesitate to marry him. He valued her and not just because of her DelFino connections. He didn’t see her as a harpy. She couldn’t quite figure out why he was so adamant about her when he had plenty of other well-connected young women to choose from. But he was. That meant something.</p><p>Damnation.</p><hr/><p>“Hold up, Lannie,” Fen said and reined in Tabasco.</p><p>Afternoon was slowly wearing itself out to sundown and the shadows were getting longer. Every day they made better time than the day before. Her equestrian skills were improving by leaps and bounds as her body adjusted to riding all day, every day. Ulla would be so proud. But Fen wasn’t heading off into the steppes. It was too early to find a campsite and too many people were around, paying attention to them.</p><p>“What is it?” she asked.</p><p>“Something up ahead.”</p><p>He stood in the stirrups, Tabasco obediently holding still. Lannie suddenly remembered seeing an exhibition of fancy riding at DelFino Castle. The riders were acrobats on horses, actually able to stand on their horse while it was trotting around in a circle. Then they did astonishing tricks! She hadn’t dared try such feats on her own, but several cousins did. Zachery put a stop to it after a few broken bones and cracked skulls. It was, as he stated, harder than it looked and much harder than DelFino skeletons were proving to be. It also annoyed the horses.</p><p>“Trouble? For us?” she gasped.</p><p>She shouldn’t have mailed those postcards out. They ensured Charlton, mama, and Ulla knew where she was. It wouldn’t be hard for Charlton to guess she was riding northwards. He probably thought she was going to Ranaglia as it was the sensible destination. They could keep thinking that until she mailed a postcard from a waystation north of Ranaglia. Not saying anything would help cover their tracks. In the meantime, the only way to Ranaglia was via the Pole-To-Pole Road and that meant someone from Orlov could post themselves anywhere alongside and just wait for her to ride by and be captured.</p><p>“Not sure. It looks like a scuffle.”</p><p>He glanced over to the steppes at the road’s edge. Planted fields for some settlement they were nearing spread from the road’s edge to the far horizon. Peasants were working the fields. They watched the road’s traffic, openly hostile. The hoe blades and other tools had sharp edges, glinting in the sun. They couldn’t ride out into those fields without incurring other problems. “We’ll swing wide only if we have to.”</p><p>A few minutes later, they arrived at the scene.</p><p>A cluster of flamboyantly painted wagons blocked the northward side of the road across most of its width. Even more flamboyantly dressed people were gathered around them, all chattering and gesturing wildly. Their leader, dressed from head to toe in a strident, glittery fuchsia and a tall, pointed hat enhanced with gold stars, screamed at a much more sedately dressed traveler, being securely held by several other irate travelers.</p><p>“Thief!” the fuchsia-clad man yelled. “You tried to rob us!” He waved his arms madly, making his point.</p><p>“And us,” one of the thief’s captors roared.</p><p>“I’ve seen his wanted poster!” the fuchsia-clad man declaimed even louder. His voice carried beautifully, clear and understandable despite his volume. “Thief! Miscreant! Robber! Outlaw! Despoiler of virtuous maidens!”</p><p>Lannie sat up in Handsome’s saddle, alert and attentive, caught by the familiar theatricality. Performers like this never came to their remote estates but they came to Telduv regularly. To DelFino Castle too. Daddy did his darnedest to never miss a performance if he had enough advance notice to travel to see the show. He would watch each show intently, every single performance, whispering the lines as he memorized them. Afterwards, he would bore the family to tears with detailed critiques of every aspect of the performance from costumes to enunciation. When he tired of that, he’d dig out his old plays and rehearse them again, rather than paying attention to the needs of his crumbling estates.</p><p>The growing mob made uglier noises, particularly when other bystanders also recognized the thief from his wanted poster.</p><p>“There’s a reward for his capture,” the fuchsia-clad man declaimed. “Several hundred credits, I believe.” Anyone who hadn’t been paying attention, patiently working their way past the bottleneck, stopped to listen.</p><p>“Fen,” Lannie said. “Let’s wait and watch.”</p><p>“We should pass them while we got the chance. No one is paying one bit of attention to us with those clowns in clown clothes to stare at. I never saw a man wear that color before. It’s unnatural.”</p><p>“It’s a traveling show and that makes it natural,” Lannie said. “If we could travel with <em>them</em>, no one would notice <em>us</em>. We’d be part of the show.”</p><p>Fen thought about this. “That could work but why would they let us join them? I can’t do anything that people would pay to watch.”</p><p>“Can you do fancy riding with Coppertail? Like stand up on his back and jump through a hoop while he’s trotting around a circle?”</p><p>He laughed. “No. What about you?”</p><p>“I’m not a good actress,” Lannie admitted. “I get the giggles. We could pay them with a pearl or two.”</p><p>“Don’t like that idea,” Fen countered. “I’m betting that show people live by their wits and they don’t stay in one place long enough to be held accountable for their actions. We might be murdered in our beds.”</p><p>“That could be true.”</p><p>“Also,” he said, warming to his subject. “That leader —”</p><p>“— Ringmaster,” Lannie interrupted.</p><p>“That Ringmaster reads wanted posters based on what he’s saying. I’m betting Orlov has posters of us plastered from Barsoom to Northernmost by now. It’s what I’d do.”</p><p>Lannie chewed her lip. “Er. You’re probably right.” And the road to Ranaglia too. Good thing they weren’t going there.</p><p>“I am right, but you’ve got a great idea. If we could convince those people to let us travel with them, we’d disappear. But they’ve got to want us. Otherwise, they got no reason not to turn us in to the first sheriff they see for the reward money on our heads.”</p><p>“Darn it,” Lannie said. “I know the rudiments of running a manor house thanks to Ulla. That won’t be useful. How about you?”</p><p>“I can light a fire and fight bandits.” He grinned and pointed to his waist where Reg and Killem’s knives lurked behind his shirt.</p><p>“That might not be enough incentive.” She groaned and stared at the traveling troupe. Men, women, several kids, all in brilliantly colored clothing in clashing colors milling about. Wait. She edged Handsome forward to get a closer look.</p><p>No one in the troupe knew how to sew well. Their garments were sewn the way they were partly to attract attention and partly, from the looks of it, because someone had taken garments apart and sewed the useable sections together rather than taking the time to darn worn spots or invisibly patch them. Even from a distance she could see the clumsy darts and tucks forcing a too-large sleeve into a smaller armhole. The kids in particular were wearing badly cut-down adult clothing.</p><p>“Fen? If you can provide protection, I can help them sew up their clothes and costumes. Mama taught me how to sew very well. I can darn, mend, and embroider. That might be enough for a few days.”</p><p>“A few days will get us out of sight. They might feed us too, even if it’s mil-rats. It’s worth the risk of being recognized. We’ll follow behind and ask when they settle in for the night. If they say something, we’ll disappear into the steppes, fields be damned, and ride hell for leather for a while.”</p><hr/><p>“Ho the camp!” Fen called out.</p><p>The traveling show was camped alongside the road in a pasture. The flamboyant wagons were arranged in an arch, facing the road and drawing in potential customers from both sides of the road. Jugglers and acrobats ensured that no one walked by without staring. The wagon closest to the road opened up into a lantern-lit stage, with dancers prancing and leaping on it. The audience gasped and cheered when the dancers showed more leg, then booed when a mustache-twirling villain leaped on stage and drew his glittering sword.</p><p>However, he and Lannie did not approach from the front where they’d get in the way of the paying customers. They came in from the side, where the ringmaster, resplendent in fuchsia, watched the show with a measuring eye and directed the rest of his troupe from behind the scene.</p><p>He turned to glare at Fen and Lannie.</p><p>“Show’s up front.”</p><p>“That’s —” Fen said.</p><p>“— and a very fine show it is,” Lannie interrupted him. “We’d like travel with you.”</p><p>“You two want to run away and join the circus? We’re full up on untalented ingenues and idiot leading men.”</p><p>Lannie giggled and Fen looked puzzled, then annoyed.</p><p>“No, Ringmaster,” she said. “I get the giggles on stage. I’m terrible.”</p><p>“That’s honest,” the ringmaster said with a chuckle. “You, lad. You gonna tell me you do trick riding?”</p><p>“No, sir. I ride like a normal person.”</p><p>“Then why should I let either of you travel with me? I got enough problems.”</p><p>“I can sew beautifully and fix your costumes. They need help,” Lannie said, projecting all the confidence she did not feel. “Your everyday clothing too.” She spoke with the unconscious arrogance and perfect diction of a lady of the Equator Four Hundred and the ringmaster sat up and took notice, despite how she was dressed.</p><p>“How about you,” he asked, pointing at Fen.</p><p>“I can make camp anywhere. Light a fire in bad weather. Fight off bandits,” Fen answered.</p><p>“Nice horses.”</p><p>“Thank you. I can take care of horses too,” Fen added.</p><p>“You know all about them?”</p><p>“No, but I know more than most people outside of the Ennaretee.”</p><p>“Dismount and come into the light so I can see you better,” the ringmaster said, the ring of command echoing in his voice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. I can’t parade around in a loincloth! It’s indecent.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Borden,” Paroo said. “This is strange.” She held up a pair of envelopes. One was a heavy cream, the other a pearly white. Both had sigils embossed on them.</p><p>“Is it news about Fen?” Borden asked eagerly, looking up from the papers blanketing his desk. He’d been studying maintenance plans for the demesne for the coming year: what to defer and what <em>had</em> to be done because it couldn’t be deferred any longer. It was painful he couldn’t postpone the job any longer in hopes that money would magically appear.</p><p>She swallowed a sigh. “I would have said that first. I’m worried about our son too. No, these are almost identical letters but one is from Ottilie DelFino and the other from Gladys Orlov.”</p><p>“That is strange.” Borden sat back, looking like he’d bitten into rancid fruit. Unpleasant memories of his last trip to the conclave in Barsoom resurfaced. He knew those Four Hundred names. “I’ve met Zachery DelFino. He thinks everyone in the Ennaretee is a savage living in a tent, daimyos included. The daimyo of Orlov is a drunken lunatic so his demesne must be the worst run on Mars. Who are they exactly and why are they writing to you?”</p><p>Paroo Pfiefer HighTower looked puzzled.</p><p>“They’re matchmakers from DelFino and Orlov respectively. They have both decided that they need to freshen the gene pools in their demesnes and want to know all about our eligible sons and daughters, as well as what HighTower is like.”</p><p>“Huh. That’s really strange.”</p><p>“I know,” Paroo replied. She curled her lip, remembering how she had fared the one time she’d traveled to Barsoom with Borden for a conclave. “The dowries we can provide for HighTower daughters won’t buy a fancy scarf in Barsoom. The bride price our sons can pay won’t buy the matching gloves. Matchmakers like these women ignore the Ennaretee. We don’t exist for them.”</p><p>“They’re right about fresh genes,” Borden said thoughtfully. “We’ve got to be fifteen degrees of consanguinity from everyone at the Equator. Or more. Write back, starting with details about Ethan. A bride might be the making of him. It doesn’t look like Evelyn Ozigbow will work out, dammit.”</p><p>“She’ll be here another week or two, so there’s still hope. But you’re probably correct. I’ll write back to the DelFino and Orlov matchmakers about Ethan. Fen too, for when he comes home.”</p><p>Borden got up and walked around the desk and took his wife into his arms. “He’ll come home. Fen would never do anything stupid like Ethan. He takes after you.”</p><p>She leaned into her husband’s broad chest and sighed deeply. “He’s still alive but I cannot understand what is taking so long. He should have been home by now. Why, if our Fen is so sensible, isn’t he saying what’s keeping him?”</p><p>Borden stared over Paroo’s head at the map of the northern half of Mars covering the opposite wall. “I guess he doesn’t want us to worry.”</p><p>She laughed ruefully. “It’s not working.”</p><p>“We’ll find out more. He’s writing again, to us and to Theo. Any idea why he wants to see the GroveMaster as soon as he gets home?”</p><p>“No. It’s very unlike our Fen.”</p><hr/><p>“Be ready to run on my signal,” Fen reminded Lannie in a whisper. They’d worked out a plan. Coppertail, Tabasco, and Handsome were loosely secured, fully loaded, and close at hand so they could leave in a hurry.</p><p>“Got it.”</p><p>They stepped into the circle of flickering light thrown by fire and lanterns and waited, hand in hand, for the Ringmaster’s scream of “Runaway bride, her savage lover, and a huge reward!”</p><p>Instead, the Ringmaster eyed them carefully, taking them in from head to toe.</p><p>They waited anxiously.</p><p>At last, when Fen was ready to leap back to the horses, the Ringmaster said, “I won’t pretend I don’t recognize you. I won’t pretend I don’t need the reward money. But I don’t like DelFino. I despise Orlov.” He spat noisily onto the ground to illustrate his point. “I won’t throw anyone into their gulags. I do not need trouble for me or my troupe. I suggest you move along and I <em>will</em> pretend I didn’t see you.”</p><p>“You are very gracious,” Lannie said, channeling her mother and the other ladies of DelFino as hard as she could. “But we would prefer to travel with you and your troupe.”</p><p>“You can sew?” the Ringmaster asked and snorted. “That’s why your clothes fit so well?”</p><p>“Yes, I can.” She ran her hand across her hugely oversized coverall. “I haven’t had the opportunity or tools to alter my clothing.”</p><p>He glanced at Fen and snorted again. “A scrawny teenager like you can fight off bandits?”</p><p>Fen dropped Lannie’s hand and lifted his shirt up, displaying Reg and Killem’s knives. Like Mr. Obermatt before him, the blood drained from the Ringmaster’s face when he saw the embossed scabbards and bone hilts. He staggered back, blinking and terrified.</p><p>“You, you…” he stuttered, at a loss for words for the first time in years.</p><p>“They’re dead,” Fen said calmly. “I slashed their bellies open to make sure of it.”</p><p>“I know Reg and Killem are dead,” the Ringmaster forced out. “Or you wouldn’t own their knives. You can stay.”</p><p>“That is so generous of you and we deeply appreciate it,” Lannie said promptly.</p><p>“Why the change of heart?” Fen asked, far more suspicious.</p><p>The Ringmaster’s expressive face worked, overcome by a cascade of emotion, each one erasing the one before. Grief and fury predominated.</p><p>“Reg and Killem are a scourge in the corridors, raping, robbing, murdering,” he said. “They’re vicious, sick bastards. They ambushed and murdered almost everyone in another traveling troupe. Friends of mine. Dear friends. One of their kids got away. He travels with us now. He told us what they did. Woke up screaming every night for years. Stay as long as you like.”</p><p>“We’re heading up to Darnay,” Lannie chirped brightly. “Are you going there?” She caught Fen’s disapproving glare and realized her mistake. Too late now.</p><p>“We’re turning eastward at Fintney. Got shows prepaid in all the Ennagzee demesnes up to Shelleen and then in Purnell,” the Ringmaster replied. His voice shook. He could not stop the shaking, remembering what he’d been told by the surviving, sobbing child. He’d had his own nightmares.</p><p>“You okay there, Marvolo?” one of the troupe members came into the circle of light.</p><p>“I’m fine. These two travelers will be traveling with us,” the Ringmaster replied.</p><p>The trouper studied Lannie and Fen. “There’s a big reward for information about her.”</p><p>“Show him,” the Ringmaster commanded, waving an imperious hand. Fen raised his shirt again, revealing the booty he had won.</p><p>The other trouper watched unimpressed, then blanched when he recognized the hilts, gasped and sank to his knees. “Praise be, they’re dead,” he whispered.</p><p>“Pass the word,” the Ringmaster ordered. “These two earned a place with us. Anybody talks, I’m kicking them out of my troupe.”</p><p>“Right away,” the trouper murmured and darted back to the nearest wagon.</p><p>“I’m Lannie,” Lannie announced. “And this is my friend, Fen.”</p><p>“Not Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino?” the Ringmaster asked, an eyebrow arched high.</p><p>“No, Ringmaster, I like Lannie better,” she replied. “Daddy called me Yilanda but daddy tried to force me to marry the daimyo of Orlov so I don’t listen to daddy anymore.”</p><p>“We’ll have to talk later,” the Ringmaster said. “Some of our plays have ristos in them and you can give us pointers on manners and behavior.”</p><p>“I’d be delighted,” Lannie said graciously and sank into a deep, full curtsey. Mama had insisted she practice until she was perfect. Mama had been right. The Ringmaster looked as pleased as if she’d given him a pearl ring. If she’d had a fan, she could have demonstrated an even more flamboyant curtsey.</p><p>“And me?” Fen asked warily.</p><p>“You sure you can’t do any trick riding?”</p><p>“No sir, I cannot.”</p><p>“We’ll find things for you to do. Have a seat over there and you can watch the show.”</p><p>“I got to see to my horses first,” Fen said. “I have to have your word we will be safe.”</p><p>“No worries. You will be.” The Ringmaster turned and called “Someone get me Eben!”</p><p>“This will work,” Lannie whispered.</p><p>“We’ll see,” Fen answered. “Lot of money in those rewards. Money makes people do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. Still, no one will notice us when they got people dressed like these folks to stare at. That woman on the stage has her dress pulled up so you can see her thighs!”</p><p>The thought flashed unbidden that he had not seen Lannie’s thighs, although he did know the beautiful curve of her calves and trim ankles and how long her hair was. He wrenched his mind back to the show, averting his eyes from the dancer’s legs. No wonder people were stopping to enjoy the show as twilight slowly moved in. An entire horde of travelers, strangers to each other, would be pitching camp on the edge of the road. Safety in numbers as it were.</p><p>“You’re welcome to sleep with us in our wagons,” the Ringmaster said.</p><p>“No thanks,” Fen said. “We’ll stay out on the steppes and rejoin you first thing in the morning.”</p><p>“Good enough,” the Ringmaster replied. He watched carefully as the scrawny teenager with a boy’s scruffy beard and a braid down to his ass and the girl drowning in a man’s coverall ten sizes too big watched the show from a safe distance. They were both wary and skittish but the melodrama caught them in its snare. His troupe was trying out his newest play. If fugitives stopped to watch, then this play would pull an audience anywhere.</p><p>Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne dead by the hand of a scrawny teenager. That could be reworked into that play that wasn’t working. He’d have to get details while he had the chance. And make sure every member of his troupe understood that they had to keep their damned mouths shut.</p><p>Reg and Killem dead. Dumbfounding and impossible and the most welcome news he’d had in a year.</p><hr/><p>Fen and Lannie watched the stage show for another half hour, even while constantly looking over their shoulder. As darkness crept up, they reluctantly tore themselves away and slipped off over the rise. Prior to confronting the Ringmaster and in case he agreed, Fen had scouted out a secluded dell with only one obvious way in and a hidden way out. It was also a good half-klick further out into the steppes. They swiftly settled in for the night.</p><p>“I hope this works,” Lannie whispered to Fen, snuggled up next to him. “Orlov probably has men waiting for us on the road to Ranaglia.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d bet good coin they do,” he whispered back. “You think DelFino might have men waiting too?”</p><p>Lannie chewed her lip while she thought. “I don’t know,” she whispered after long thought. “Walter and Charlton must have told Zachery about my stealing the Pearls. Daddy would want them for himself so I don’t know what he would do. Maybe?”</p><p>“Yes,” Fen decided. “If Zachery gets to them before Orlov, they’d become the Pearls of DelFino, and he wouldn’t care what happens to you. Like Ranaglia would not care, if they got the Pearls.”</p><p>“I can’t decide what to do with them, Fen. They’re so beautiful, so wonderful. So dangerous.”</p><p>“We’ll come up with something,” he said. “Sleep might help.”</p><p>Lannie fell asleep within minutes, like always. Fen did not, listening warily to the night sounds of the steppes. The show by the road was winding down from the sounds he caught, as was the road around it. He waited for the voice of the steppes to take hold and while he waited, watched the stars fill the sky overhead, their radiant, icy beauty granted to anyone who bothered to look. Their message was unclear, but it was there. The stars were indifferent but they did not lie.</p><p>Men did.</p><p>When the last of the road noise died away, he slipped away from Lannie, checked the horses, circled their camp to see if anyone had found them and was relieved that no one had. He took care of that body need — the thought of seeing Lannie’s thighs was electrifying — and circled back again. He slipped silently through the grass; eyes adjusted to the minimal light the stars gave. Nothing. All was quiet. City people like those traveling show folks wouldn’t dare come so far out in the dark. He could sleep and, in the morning, they’d discover what was waiting for them at the traveling show. Safety? Camouflage up to Fintney? His luck whispered yes and he let himself relax.</p><hr/><p>Marvolo, Ringmaster, owner, and playwright for Marvolo’s Marvelous Show, waited for sleep. Fretting over the promise he’d made kept him awake. The possibility of rescuing quarry from DelFino and worse, Orlov, depraved risto sods who starved their serfs, was appealing. What DelFino and Orlov would do to him and his troupe if they ever learned that he’d not promptly and obediently turned Lannie and Fen in was horrifying to contemplate. A sentence in the Dirac mines would be preferable. Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne dead meant safer travels for everyone. Other outlaws would gather but it would take time and none of them could possibly be the sadistic horrors that Reg and Killem were. How could he not aid their killers? That scruffy teenager had done a favor for everyone who traveled the Pole-To-Pole Road.</p><p>But he needed the money.</p><p>That reward for information was alluring. Coin to keep the show afloat. Coin to pay everyone as promised. Coin to repair wagons, to buy new props and costumes, coin to buy a new wagon with a dedicated, bigger stage. Coin to pay his agent a bonus for getting them jobs. He hadn’t sworn in so many words on his name to not talk. He groaned aloud in the velvety darkness. That was risto thinking. Worse, it was Olde Earthe thinking, making a promise and then finding a reason not to honor it.</p><p>But he really needed the money.</p><p>There had to be a way to honor his promise and make desperately needed money. The girl was manageable. As a risto, she would naturally expect people to do what she told them. She would trust because she had no reason not to. She assumed servants would obey and if you weren’t a risto, you were a servant.</p><p>The lad was dangerous and not just because he was from the Ennaretee. Anyone who could get the drop on Reg and Killem wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter a potential enemy. He’d been so matter of fact about slashing open Reg and Killem’s bellies to make sure they were dead. A good thing to be sure since it would be just like Reg and Killem to rise from the dead and stalk the living. Marvolo shuddered, reached for his lantern and notebook and wrote down the idea. That would make a great play for the harvest season when people paid to be scared because they had full bellies. Hmm. Reg and Killem, now that they were safely dead and could not complain, could serve as all-purpose, scary villains in plays.</p><p>He sighed in the darkness. He was stuck. Lannie and Fen might never show up in the morning. They might leave on their own after a day. In the meantime, the entire troupe had been warned to keep silent about their new members. The men in particular had been instructed to behave respectfully around Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino. Fen would cut their hands off and then slit their throats if he thought his girlfriend was being threatened. That was what they did in the Ennaretee.</p><p>What had he done to his people?</p><p>Maybe his luck would reappear from wherever she’d been hiding for the last few years and the two of them wouldn’t show up at all. Sleeping on the steppes! Alone! They were obviously insane and insane people couldn’t be reasoned with, only avoided.</p><hr/><p>“Idiot slackers,” Fen sniffed with contempt as he surveyed the encampment by the road. “Still asleep and waiting for someone to slit their throats, rob their bodies, and steal their horses and gear.”</p><p>He and Lannie had gotten up with the sun, as always, eaten quickly, broken camp and found Marvolo’s Marvelous Show camped alongside the road exactly where they’d left them. The wagons were silent. Even the show’s kids hadn’t stirred. The horses in the remuda watched them, bored and disinterested. No dogs, which he thought was shocking. No watch set either, even more shocking. Traffic on the road was already moving. The paying customers who’d slept between the show wagons and the road were waking up and moving, yet the troupe slept on.</p><p>Their own horses were hobbled and together on the other side of the ridge. The Pearls remained tucked inside his second-best shirt buried in the bottom of a saddlebag.</p><p>“They’re show people,” Lannie said and yawned. “Show people stay up late and sleep in.”</p><p>“Along the Pole-To-Pole Road?”</p><p>“They don’t have to worry about Reg and Killem anymore.”</p><p>“True, but I saw those wanted posters for other outlaws and bandits in every waystation. No reason to be careless. I’ll get a fire started.”</p><p>Lannie giggled suddenly. “They might have tea!”</p><p>He brightened, the day for him suddenly sunny instead of overcast, gray, and misty with light rain as it truly was. “They might.”</p><p>Fen got started with the fire in the circle of stones the show people had used the previous night. It took three tries because whoever had banked the fire the night before had not, apparently, considered that a fire in the morning might be welcome.</p><p>Once he’d gotten it started, he let Lannie take over tending it, feeding it with twists of grass, and checked the show’s own horses. Tired, worn-out nags the lot of them. He introduced himself to each horse in turn, wondering if any of them were trained to saddle. He realized he didn’t know if Tabasco or Handsome were trained to harness. Pulling a wagon would be the best way to hide them. Only one way to find out. Coppertail was not trained and would have to follow on a lead.</p><p>Gradually, slowly, the show people stirred, woke up, took over the morning tasks and got to know their newest members over porridge and hot mint tea.</p><hr/><p>Fen was horrified at how agonizingly long it took to get the show moving. Once they were finally on the road, the wagons didn’t move much faster than a brisk walk.</p><p>When they broke for lunch, he took Lannie aside.</p><p>“They will take forever to get to Fintney.”</p><p>“I know,” Lannie snickered. “Isn’t it great? If Orlov and DelFino are waiting to catch me on the road to Ranaglia, they’ll wait even longer.”</p><p>“That is true,” Fen replied after thinking it over.</p><p>“No one would ever believe we’d joined a traveling show. No member of the Four Hundred would ever stoop so low. Not even daddy and he adores acting.”</p><p>“You okay riding in that wagon?”</p><p>“Yes, I’ve been working on fixing costumes.” She waved her hands. “And when I’m resting my hands, I’ve been showing the actresses all the different curtseys.”</p><p>“There’s more than one?”</p><p>“Sure. It depends on who you’re being introduced to and how important they are. Fan language too.”</p><p>Fen chuckled. “We don’t do that in the Ennaretee.”</p><p>“We do it in the Hot Zone. It will look classy on stage.”</p><p>“They won’t make you go on stage?”</p><p>“No, Marvolo doesn’t need me, thank all the Gods of DelFino. I’d trip and burst into giggles. Daddy despaired of making me into an actress,” Lannie said. Her face filled with sadness. “We used to have so much fun at home.”</p><p>“You’ll like HighTower,” Fen said soothingly. “We play a lot of games and I’ll teach them all to you.”</p><p>She smiled up at him and his heart leaped. “Okay.”</p><hr/><p>Marvolo had the wagons stop in a convenient field across from a waystation. Afternoon was wearing away and it was time for another show. Waystations provided built-in audiences so, as he told Lannie and Fen, they might stay two nights, or even three.</p><p>“That won’t be a problem?” he inquired carefully.</p><p>“No, sir,” Fen said. “We need to disappear and this works.”</p><p>“Good, good, good,” Marvolo said cheerily. He radiated sincerity. “I’m going to help you disappear even more. The play we’re performing tonight has a part for a Wildside savage. You’ve got the hair and beard already so that’s you.”</p><p>“What? I can’t act and being on a stage guarantees people will notice me!” Fen snarled.</p><p>“Don’t get your feathers ruffled, my lad,” Marvolo said in his most soothing keep-the-talent-calm voice. “No one will recognize you and we need the role filled. Think of this as helping us out, like we’re helping you out.”</p><p>“You’ll do fine, Fen.” Lannie then gave Marvolo a disapproving eye — emulating aunt Ottilie at her worst — and asked sternly, “Is this a speaking role?”</p><p>“Gods, no,” Marvolo said, looking offended at the concept of an amateur on stage. “Wildside savages don’t know how to speak like civilized humans. All your friend has to do is look dangerous, scream ooga-booga, and stalk around the stage while staying out of the way.”</p><p>“What kind of a play is this?” Lannie asked suspiciously. “That sounds too important to be a walk-on.”</p><p>“You know something about plays,” Marvolo said.</p><p>“Yes, Ringmaster, I do.”</p><p>“I don’t know anything about plays,” Fen protested.</p><p>“You’ll do fine,” Marvolo soothed him. “The troupe will tell you where to stand and pose when you’re on stage. Just do what they tell you. You’ll get a rehearsal first. Eben will make you look properly savage. You’re kind of scrawny but we’ll strip you to a loincloth, add paint and a spear, and you’ll thrill the crowd.”</p><p>“A loincloth?” Fen yelped. “I can’t parade around in a loincloth! It’s indecent.”</p><p>“Fen? Sweetie?” Lannie said. “Excuse us please, Ringmaster.”</p><p>“Of course, Miss Lannie,” Marvolo said. The girl <em>would</em> be easy to work with. She already knew who was boss on a show and it wasn’t the talent.</p><p>“I’m not running around on a stage in a loincloth,” Fen hissed. “I’m supposed to be inconspicuous.”</p><p>“Yes, you will, Fen,” Lannie hissed back. “We need to keep these people happy so we travel with the troupe. Think of it this way. You won’t even have to sign for mil-rats as long as they feed us and if you do, we can stockpile them for the trip from Fintney to Darnay.”</p><p>“That’s true,” he agreed, looking sulky.</p><p>“Besides,” Lannie said. “I’ve seen show people on and off stage. Put enough makeup on and anyone who sees you on stage won’t recognize you off stage. It will be fun.”</p><p>“Fun. Hah!” He eyed her. She’d called him sweetie and it felt marvelous. “Will you watch me parade around in a loincloth?”</p><p>She blushed to the roots of her hair and didn’t know what to do with her hands or where to look. “Yes.”</p><p>“Then I’ll do it.”</p><p>Lannie beamed at him. “You’ll have fun, you’ll see.” Impulsively she hugged him tightly.</p><p>Marvolo (eavesdropping shamelessly) thought, damnation. I’ll get a Wildside savage all the way to Fintney and I won’t have to pay one of my regulars extra to parade around in a loincloth. She’s good. Too bad she can’t act.</p><hr/><p>“Vanished! What the hellation do you mean they vanished!” Dimitri screamed at Mr. Parminder and RedHawk. He stomped to Mr. Parminder’s desk and leaned over it, looking like an infuriated bear.</p><p>“No one has signed for mil-rats at any waystation in Fen HighTower’s handwriting. Not under his name or any of the aliases we have seen,” Mr. Parminder replied patiently. He did not shift an iota in his chair; it was always a bad idea to show fear to a client, particularly a risto client.</p><p>“Why don’t you have a man assigned to each waystation, you incompetent slobbo?!” Dimitri screamed even louder and slashed his fists across Mr. Parminder’s desk, knocking aside a paperweight, papers, pens, and a framed portrait of Mrs. Parminder and their children. The paperweight, a gift from his oldest daughter, shattered when it hit the floor.</p><p>Mr. Parminder stiffened and reared up from behind his desk.</p><p>“Because the Martian government will not allow <em>us</em>, a private agency, to track the movements of its citizens, you demented risto,” he screamed back. “Those are free citizens, not enslaved serfs, and you do not control every aspect of their lives!”</p><p>“If I may, Mr. Parminder,” John RedHawk interrupted. It was always bad when the boss and the client tried to kill each other.</p><p>“Go ahead, John,” Mr. Parminder spat out and forced himself to sit behind his desk and not reach for either the bottle of scotch he had been lacing his tea with ever since he took this damned case or the razor-sharp letter opener. The client is extremely important, he repeated silently to himself as a calming mantra. The client owes me money. The client won’t pay if I slash his throat with my letter opener or if I waste a good bottle of scotch, coldcocking the damned risto bastard, and I wish I had never taken this damned case.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” RedHawk said. “Calm yourself. You did not know the rules which we have to follow. We, I, must not have explained them to you clearly. Although we are licensed investigators, we cannot drag citizens off to our dungeons for questioning, although you, a lord of Orlov, can do that to your own serfs.”</p><p>“You have a dungeon?” Dimitri asked, momentarily sidetracked from his horror over his loss of self-control. He was turning into the sot. This was the sot’s fault. And that bitch, Lannie’s.</p><p>“No, my lord, although I am sure that you do.”</p><p>“Orlov does not maintain dungeons in our castle,” Dimitri ground out. “Those are below-grade storage rooms.”</p><p>“If you say so,” RedHawk replied blandly.</p><p>“I will not argue,” Mr. Parminder said, equally bland.</p><p>“The stone walls and lack of windows are to keep rodents at bay,” Dimitri added. He was going insane, arguing over dungeons with a hired investigator. If Parminder Investigations was the best of a bad lot, what would a bad investigator have been like? He was stuck with them, damn their eyes. Maybe Madame Orlov would be useful and make their stones rot to the roots and take the pillars with them.</p><p>“I would never disagree,” RedHawk replied. It was getting harder to keep a blank face.</p><p>“Have you considered keeping cats?” Mr. Parminder asked archly.</p><p>Dimitri forced himself to step back from Parminder’s desk, while wondering how Parminder knew about Rastislav’s hatred for cats. What else did he know? “We are getting off track. The daimyo insists you find Miss Yilanda. What can you legally do?”</p><p>“What we are already doing,” Mr. Parminder told him. “We can post notices at every public bulletin board between here and Northernmost, which we have. We can contact every law enforcement agency between here and Northernmost, which we have. We can have stringers travel from waystation to waystation, where we believe Miss Yilanda is, which we are doing. We can ask to see logbooks at every waystation, which we have, all the way to Fintney. They are public record. We cannot post a man at every government waystation between here and Northernmost to watch every citizen sign for mil-rats. That is Olde Earth behavior. Even if we were to try, our man would be noticed and beaten to a bloody pulp in short order. The waystation keeper would lead the charge.”</p><p>“We do have men in Fintney, waiting at the local waystation and another small group waiting on the road to Ranaglia. The crew chief has already informed me that there is another group of men loitering in a similar fashion,” RedHawk added.</p><p>“DelFino,” Dimitri murmured and closed his eyes in pain. That damned Zachery would get there first and steal the Pearls. He would publicly announce the acquisition of the Pearls of DelFino. Orlov would be ruined.</p><p>“It would seem so,” Mr. Parminder said. “However, take heart my lord. Prior to setting up <em>our</em> men, John contacted the police chief of Fintney, the sheriff of the surrounding corridors, and Internal Security. I will not say those law enforcement agencies are on our side, but because <em>we</em> followed procedures, our stringers are not being harassed and threatened with arrest. DelFino’s men, if those men work for DelFino, are being watched very closely to ensure they do not step out of line and act like ristos on a demesne. If they do, they will be promptly arrested.”</p><p>“You have told us everything, my lord?” RedHawk asked.</p><p>“Every detail is pertinent,” Mr. Parminder added.</p><p>“Everything,” Dimitri growled. “To the last detail.”</p><p>“Very good, sir. We will continue on as before,” Mr. Parminder said. “I will bill you again at the end of the week.”</p><p>“Find Miss Yilanda,” Dimitri said. “We must have her back.”</p><p>He spun on his heel and stomped out of the office, slamming the door hard enough to make the broken shards of Mr. Parminder’s paperweight bounce. When he left the office’s reception lobby, he slammed that door hard enough to make Mr. Parminder’s office door rattle.</p><p>When the last echo died away, Mr. Parminder said, “you were correct, John, and I was wrong. What Orlov is lying about is of critical importance.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Parminder,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“Unfortunately, we are in too deep now to bow out gracefully,” Mr. Parminder said. “Our reputation for success is at stake. You must locate Miss Yilanda.”</p><p>“My lord Dimitri did not ask about the housemaid, Nelly. Did our Gloddin stringer report anything new?” RedHawk asked. “It would be pleasant to deliver some good news.”</p><p>“No,” Mr. Parminder said. “Nelly vanished off the face of Mars after meeting Mrs. Pondicherry. I am positive that adventuress was instrumental. Her background is the most suspicious I’ve ever seen.”</p><p>“Yes, I agree,” RedHawk said. “But that case is not, thankfully, related to Miss Yilanda’s disappearance. I suspect Nelly is in the hands of slavers by now, but Miss Yilanda is still free.”</p><p>“For now,” Mr. Parminder said and gazed pensively through his window to the street outside. RedHawk followed his gaze and saw Dimitri Orlov sitting in the café at his now-usual table and snarling at a stoic waiter.</p><p>“Are we doing the right thing?” RedHawk asked, recalling Dimitri’s behavior with Jennet Quispe in the Merreth waystation post office.</p><p>“They’re our clients, John. We agreed to this task. We signed a contract and we have taken their money,” Mr. Parminder reminded him. “Distasteful as this case has become, we must succeed.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Favors have to be paid for.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Now that you’ve seen your potential estates with your own eyes, what do you think? Can you do it?” Charlton asked.</p><p>Walter stood on the ridge, silent and unmoving, other than when he slapped mosquitos and midges. Despite the heat, the clouds of bloodsucking insects ensured he wore the lightest-weight long-sleeved shirt he owned.</p><p>The thousands of hectares that would be his lay sprawled before them. The ridgeline marked the end of Charlton’s estates and the beginning of raw, untouched, rugged wilderness. Like the rest of Mars, the terraformers had long-since given way to something more complex than massive colonies of fungi and algae caking every surface. This close to the equator, each stream was surrounded by sprawling, impenetrable, verdant marshy jungles. Where the land rose and dried out, the steppes returned, although they struggled for dominance with the beginnings of forests. The region had potential for farming, silviculture, orchards and pastures, but the land itself was rugged and uneven. To underscore the point, there were many scattered outcroppings of rock rearing up from the land, completely encased in knee-deep terraformers. The outcroppings hinted at plow-destroying bedrock lurking below the soil.</p><p>The great, flat, deep-soiled plains ideal for large-scale grain farming surrounding DelFino Castle did not exist in this part of the northeast quadrant of the demesne.</p><p>According to Jorge’s surveys, dating back to the settlement of DelFino, there were valuable minerals lurking below the luxuriant plant growth. Not that valuable, however, Walter knew, or this land would have been settled decades earlier. Not valuable for Mars at all, although the rare earths the survey claimed existed <em>were</em> valuable to Olde Earthe. They could wait, undisturbed beneath the soil until Mars had enough of an industry to warrant tearing them from the soil for its own use.</p><p>There was never a reason to send the wealth of Mars to Olde Earthe.</p><p>The seas of lush, head-tall grass surrounding islands of jungle and mountainous rock outcroppings were inhabited by a wide range of insects, birds, and animals. Predators of every size stalked smaller prey. If farming didn’t succeed at first, there was plenty of game to hunt, as long as the hunter was cautious about other predators. There were roots, tubers, fruit, and nuts to be had, as long as the gatherer was cautious about distinguishing between poisonous and nonpoisonous. Fungi too, as long as the fungus hunter was even more cautious when examining a mushroom for signs of toxicity.</p><p>Charlton, Walter, Jorge, and a small crew had spent weeks exploring the wilderness, camping in a different spot every night. Gradually, they surveyed and assessed the land for the best location for Walter’s new manor house and village for his peasants. For most of that time, the weather had varied from endless days of drizzle to torrential downpours. Today was a rare sunny day and, since there was no rain, it was settling in to be a scorcher. The lack of rain brought out the bugs in maddening droves. The group had had many conversations, huddled around a smokey fire under a tarp, about why Olde Earthe had added mosquitos to the ecological mix. The consensus was to torment the settlers, reminding them who was really in charge.</p><p>“I can do it,” Walter said at last. “But — and it pains me to admit this — I’ll need your help. I’ll fail without it.”</p><p>“Do you think Simeon will succeed?” Charlton slapped at mosquitos. He’d known stinging insects abounded and Terrence had packed accordingly, but he had grossly underestimated the population.</p><p>Other predators abounded, ranging in size up to tigers. There was at least one, who slipped unnoticed through grass and jungle until it pounced and took down a horse. Simeon’s horse, naturally, so he now owed reimbursement for the animal. The tiger’s stealthy attack made everyone in the little group watch their surroundings constantly, twitching at every rustle of grass. According to Iolanthe, Orlov had tigers but he hadn’t known that DelFino did. Maybe they had bred and spread on their own. It was a disquieting thought.</p><p>“Here? No.” Walter answered. “He and his people would starve within a year. I’d have to see the land you’re proposing for Simeon to judge better but even if it’s much easier to farm than this, he and his people will need outside help for decades.”</p><p>“You see why my quadrant hasn’t been settled,” Charlton said, staring over at the vista. “It isn’t just the lack of people or money. It’s good land with excellent soil, in spots. Well-watered.” He eyed the sky, not a single cloud overhead for a change. “But it’s isolated, wild, infested, and the terrain is a challenge.”</p><p>He paused to let Walter think. “Still want it?”</p><p>“Yes,” Walter replied without hesitation. “I do.” He closed his eyes and breathed out slow and deep as he slapped at biting mosquitos. “My grandchildren will appreciate the sacrifices I’m making for them.”</p><p>He turned to Charlton. “I will be honest. I never expected land of my own. Not unless you failed and I was awarded your estates.”</p><p>“Is that why you lied to your father about my performance?” Charlton asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the vista before them. He let his hands clench into fists, not caring if Walter noticed.</p><p>“Partly,” Walter said, also focused on the land rolling away into forever. “I resented you. You had land and I had nothing. You, the black sheep of DelFino, owned thousands of hectares with a village full of peasants. I, who could manage and appreciate an estate and take care of its people, rate a room of my own in DelFino Castle.”</p><p>Charlton started to speak and Walter said, “Let me finish. No matter what you thought, I still wouldn’t have gotten your land. Dad would’ve been impeached for blatant favoritism, I would have got nothing, and our line would be disgraced for three generations. Someone else would have been awarded your estates. I thought you were like your father and grandfather. I resented you and when I arrived at your estates, I hated you because I thought you didn’t care. Your estates were in ruins. The longer we worked together, the more I hated you because I couldn’t pretend anymore that you cared nothing for your peasants and your family. All that time you were trying to save your people and your estates from your father. Yet at the same time, you weren’t doing one damned thing to save Lannie from Rastislav.”</p><p>“I care,” Charlton told him. “I have over a hundred people depending on me. I have to save them. I couldn’t save Lannie and that failure will eat at me until I die.”</p><p>“I can see that now. You have my deepest apologies. I was wrong.”</p><p>“Any reason why I should believe any of this?” Charlton asked.</p><p>“I will always do what is right for DelFino,” Walter replied. “It’s why I married Naomi. I was wrong there too. I trusted my dad was right about her temperament and Ottilie and Ulla were wrong. They weren’t.”</p><p>Charlton grinned suddenly. “Enjoying the break from the most self-centered woman on Mars?”</p><p>“Iolanthe told you all about Naomi?”</p><p>“She sure did.”</p><p>Walter’s face turned wistful. “You chose well with Iolanthe. I misjudged her terribly at the cathedral. She is truly beautiful. I watched her playing with those tabby kittens from a barn cat’s litter. She was thrilled. Naomi … would not be able to find pleasure in anything less than a pedigreed cat.”</p><p>“Naomi’s going to give you families of serfs from Khan.”</p><p>“Yes, and I’ll succeed for them and for my children. I researched more deeply into Khan. As horrible as it sounds, Khan shipping families away from everything they’ve ever known and being dumped in the wilderness with me is the best thing that could happen to them.”</p><p>“Iolanthe implied that serfs from Khan would be better off here.”</p><p>“She doesn’t know the half of it,” Walter said. “Khan’s not as bad as Sakamoto but they’re not enlightened like we are in DelFino.” He stared pensively over the landscape. “We would never send our people halfway across Mars to starve in the wilderness. I have to succeed, not just for my own children, grandchildren, and DelFino. I have to succeed for the serfs Naomi is being given as her dowry.”</p><p>Charlton frowned at the view. “I don’t like you. But I need you to succeed too, for my own people’s wellbeing.”</p><p>“I know,” Walter said with a smirk. “And thanks, by the way, for not killing me. You could have left me to die in that ravine.”</p><p>Charlton snickered. “I wanted to, even though you kept me from being sucked under by that quicksand. I know you had plans for Lannie. Lucky for me, Naomi will punish you and I don’t have to lift a finger.”</p><p>“I would have never harmed Lannie. I wanted to rescue her when I thought you weren’t doing a damned thing.” Walter laughed harshly. “You have no idea what I’m living with. Traipsing around the wilderness for several weeks in the rain and the bugs with you and Jorge has been, well, not paradise. Let’s say purgatory with tigers is very pleasant after living with Naomi.”</p><p>“That bad?” Charlton turned to watch Walter’s face.</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Glad to hear it. I know you dictated Lannie’s letter, the one that got the sot to bring the Pearls to the cathedral. I won’t let Dimitri kill you for helping ruin Orlov.”</p><p>“Glad to hear it,” Walter said. “I’m looking forward to seeing your wife again. Iolanthe is a true beauty.”</p><p>Charlton glared at Walter and held up a fist. “You want me to kill you? Because you’re asking me to pound you into the dirt.”</p><p>Walter chuckled. “I’m teasing. I don’t have designs on your wife anymore than you have designs on mine.”</p><p>Charlton spat on the ground. “Gleesh no, but again, I don’t trust you.”</p><p>“Then trust this. I need Naomi’s dowry if I’m to succeed in settling this wilderness. I read the contracts carefully. My dad should have listened to Ottilie and our lawyers but he decided he knew better. I’m stuck so I have to keep her reasonably happy or I lose, you lose, and those serfs from Khan lose. I would have to return them to Khan.”</p><p>“Gleesh. Is there a time limit?”</p><p>Walter scowled at the land. “If I wait long enough, yeah, I can eventually escape and my new serfs will belong to me, free and clear. You’ll get your revenge in triplicate.”</p><hr/><p>“I am so glad you are back,” Iolanthe said to Charlton. She had been waiting for him in the grand entryway since they’d received word that he, Walter, and Jorge were nearing the manor house. “I know how desperately we need Walter to settle the lands to the west but if I ever have to host Naomi again, I don’t know what I’ll do.”</p><p>Charlton grinned at her, then swept her into in his arms. “I missed you too. Let’s go upstairs right now.”</p><p>She giggled. “We can’t.”</p><p>“Naomi’s already dragged Walter off,” he told her. “Footmen, grooms, and shepherds didn’t keep her busy while we were gone?”</p><p>She rolled her eyes.</p><p>“As a gracious hostess, I did not pry. Lannie sent a postcard from Fintney. She’s still alive.”</p><p>Charlton gasped, scooped up Iolanthe and carried her to the terrace outside.</p><p>“Tell me everything.”</p><p>When she finished, he thought hard. “You and Ulla are right,” he said at last. “We don’t know what Lannie’s going to do. She hasn’t done anything we’ve expected since she ran from the cathedral. Now won’t be any different.”</p><hr/><p>“Borden! Another postcard from Fen,” Paroo called as she ran into his office.</p><p>“Anything different from the last one?” Borden asked.</p><p>“Yes. We are not to allow anyone from DelFino or Orlov to set foot in HighTower. What’s more, Theo VanDenRooz got the same message. A pigeon arrived just as the PostMistress gave me the mail. She <em>also</em> said strangers are coming to HighTower, according to her mail vaquero. He passed them on the way home.”</p><p>Perplexed, Borden stared at his wife and decided to focus on the easiest potential problem first. “No one’s scheduled to visit. And why the hellation would anyone from DelFino or Orlov come all the way up here? Or to our quad? Or to our ninesquare, by all that’s holy.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” she answered. “Why would Ottilie DelFino and Gladys Orlov write to me about possible matches between the sons and daughters of our house and theirs?”</p><p>She eyed him. “It must be related. Somehow.”</p><p>“I don’t see how,” Borden said, scratching his head in puzzlement. “Fen wouldn’t have met anyone from either demesne at the regional zemstvo. I’ll send a message to VanDenRooz asking them to comply. And pigeons to Aguillero and Winzlow. And Kenyatta and Satran.”</p><p>Paroo had closed the door behind her when she entered his office. Someone pounded on it, their urgency showing in the fusillade of knocking.</p><p>“Don’t damage the door!” Borden roared. “I’ll open the damned door if you give me a minute.”</p><p>Dawud and Kavan entered.</p><p>“You have to come to the plaza now, my lord,” Dawud said.</p><p>“A message from Fen,” Kavan added. “Everyone in the household needs to be there. We’ve got visitors from Eljinn. They brought a prize our Fen won.”</p><p>Borden and Paroo stared at each other, then followed his Hands out of the office, down the hallway with its dingy, threadbare carpets, down stairs that needed repair, through doorways with doors that didn’t fit square, and at last out into the stone plaza that HighTower Manor encircled on three sides. The fourth side was open to the south, to the sun, and to warmth. It was usually empty, but not today.</p><p>A crowd of vassals were gathering, up from the village closest to the manor house. Members of the family were gathering too, drawn by the chattering and excitement. Voices filled the air accompanied by flying hands.</p><p>In the center stood strangers from far south; cleanshaven, shorthaired, strangely and inappropriately dressed for the weather. They shivered as they looked around uneasily. Borden recognized the two men escorting them; they were employed by Robinsin’s livery stable. Most of the horses with them looked familiar, from the Robinsin livery stable by their brands and tack. The remaining two horses stood out. They were draped in lightweight tan blankets. Obermatt’s Livery Stable was embroidered on both sides. One, a handsome chestnut with black stockings, wore only the blanket, leaving head and tail free. He looked around, bored and completely at ease. The other horse was completely concealed behind a floor-length blanket and matching hood. This one had a similar, blasé posture.</p><p>“This is Gussert,” Dawud told Borden and Paroo. “He’s up from Obermatt’s livery stable in Eljinn. The blanketed horses belong to Fen. Gussert wouldn’t let us uncover them until he saw you and verified you were Fen’s dad.”</p><p>“What did Fen do?” Paroo gasped.</p><p>“Something exciting, I’d guess,” Kavan said. “This Gussert and his assistants were dying to talk all the way from Robinsin, according to the livery stablehands. Spent two days getting here from town and days on the train from Eljinn before that. They arrived right after the mail vaquero did.”</p><p>Borden took another look around, then marched up to Gussert and introduced himself.</p><p>Introductions over, finally satisfied that he was speaking to Fen HighTower’s father, Gussert said, “your lad did us the biggest favor possible. Everyone in Eljinn and the corridors in both directions owes him.”</p><p>“How?” Borden asked, completely bewildered.</p><p>“Yeah. Fen would never do anything dramatic and risky,” Ethan interrupted. He’d heard the commotion and run to see what was happening, like everyone else within hailing distance.</p><p>“By your leave, my lord,” Kavan said. He got the nod and said “Shut up, Ethan.”</p><p>“Please do,” Paroo added, frowning at her oldest and the least manageable son of HighTower.</p><p>“I’m making a hash of this and I am sorry,” Gussert said. His accent was strange, causing his listeners to strain to understand him. “We come on the train from Eljinn. Mr. Obermatt, that’s my boss, made a deal with Fen HighTower and swore he’d deliver these two horses to him. Wait. This will explain better.” Gussert turned and rooted around in a saddlebag and pulled out a folded and refolded poster, handing it to Borden HighTower.</p><p>Borden unfolded it and stared, his eyes growing wider and wider as he read. He stopped and held the poster up so everyone could see it.</p><p>“Wanted. Shoot on sight. Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne,” Kavan declaimed so everyone could hear. “Madre Winter, our Fen did this?”</p><p>“Yes, sir, he did,” Gussert said. “Fen did what no one else in Eljinn managed. Reg and Killem, I won’t say God rest their souls because I hope they’re frying right now, terrorized the citizens of Eljinn and travelers up and down the corridors. Fen killed them. I don’t know how. He won their horses and my boss, Mr. Obermatt, tasked me with delivering them to you. Which I am doing.”</p><p>Ethan, like everyone else in the crowd, gaped at the poster.</p><p>“Dad? I’ll read the poster aloud to everyone else while you deal with Gussert,” he said. This couldn’t be happening. Fen killed two notorious outlaws? Cautious, careful, runt of the litter Fen? His little brother?</p><p>“Do that,” Borden said. “Over there so I can talk to Gussert.”</p><p>“Yes, dad.”</p><p>Most of the crowd followed Ethan who slowly, carefully declaimed what the poster said so everyone could hear. As he read the list of atrocities the blood drained from his face and he gagged, along with his listeners.</p><p>While Ethan orated to the crowd, Borden spoke with Gussert. Paroo, Kavan, and Dawud remained close at hand.</p><p>“These horses belong to Fen?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Why are they covered up? Something wrong with them?”</p><p>“Mr. Obermatt wanted to avoid trouble, sir,” Gussert said. “They got stares covered up like this, I won’t deny it, but not like we would have got if everyone could have seen Creamy Girl. That’s the mare. She belonged to Reg Sanderson. Highstepper, that’s the chestnut, belonged to Killem Payne. They belong to Fen HighTower now. Oh, and his snare. I got that too, in a saddlebag.”</p><p>“Uncover them,” Borden ordered.</p><p>Unveiled, the chestnut gelding was a handsome, powerful animal, but not unusual. The mare drew gasps of wonder.</p><p>“Beautiful,” Dawud said. “Never saw anything like her in my life.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Kavan said. “Beautiful.” They exchanged glances and both knew instantly what the other was thinking: can I get a foal from her for my own.</p><p>“Creamy Girl, that’s her name, got wanted posters too,” Gussert said helpfully. “They say to shoot her riders on sight. Anyone seeing her would be afraid that Reg and Killem weren’t far away and they’d be right.”</p><p>“Her name is <em>Creamy Girl</em>?” Paroo asked, scandalized as she worked out what the name meant.</p><p>Virtually everyone over the age of consent looked embarrassed.</p><p>“Yes, my lady, it is,” Gussert said, looking abashed. “I’m sorry to say her name in front of you and the other ladies and your kids, but there it is. Reg Sanderson was an evil man and he didn’t care one bit about what anyone thought. There’s those who think he picked that mare’s name just to rile folks up.”</p><p>“Fen killed him?” Borden asked again.</p><p>“Yes, sir, he did. Him and Killem. Mr. Obermatt said he’s got their belt knives too.”</p><p>Ethan came back, having passed the wanted poster on to his uncle Macon, who was reading it aloud again for the benefit of latecomers. “Dad, that poster said there’s the biggest damn reward ever for killing those two bandits. Why’s Fen got the horses and not a heap of coin too?”</p><p>All eyes turned to Gussert, who looked even more uncomfortable.</p><p>“I don’t know, sir,” he said. “Mr. Obermatt didn’t tell me what kind of arrangements he made with Fen and his girlfriend, only that I was to get the two horses up here along with Fen’s snare.”</p><p>“Fen has a <em>girlfriend</em>?” Paroo asked.</p><p>“Yes, my lady. Pretty girl with pretty brown eyes and long braids of brown hair. Mr. Obermatt told me not to say anything else or he’ll be forsworn,” Gussert told her.</p><p>More questions followed. Gussert answered them all the same way: “I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Fen and his girlfriend.”</p><p>“Can you at least tell us her name?” Paroo demanded, as irritation overrode good manners.</p><p>Gussert hemmed and hawed, then decided, “yes, I can do that. Mr. Obermatt didn’t say I couldn’t and you are Fen’s mother. He calls her Lannie, my lady.”</p><p>“Lannie,” Paroo murmured. “That tells us nothing.”</p><p>“Do you know where he met this girl?” Borden asked.</p><p>“No, sir, I do not. Barsoom, I guess,” Gussert said carefully while keeping his eyes firmly fixed just past the daimyo of HighTower’s shoulder so it didn’t look like he was avoiding his gaze while, at the same time, not acting disrespectful. “She talked real nice.”</p><p>“It’s getting late in the day,” Borden said. “We’ll put you up for the night and get you back on the road to Robinsin in the morning.”</p><p>“Thank you, sir,” Gussert said. “I got family waiting for me at home in Eljinn and they’ll be wanting me to come home, preferably in one piece.”</p><hr/><p>Much later that evening, Ethan pointed out over dinner what everyone else had been wondering but not discussing openly. There was so much else to talk about!</p><p>“Those horses, especially that mare, are valuable. But not as valuable as that reward money would have been,” he said. “Why didn’t Fen come straight home on the train with the horses, his new girlfriend, and big bags of coin? Dad, you could have paid off some bills with that coin.”</p><p>“I know, Ethan,” Borden replied.</p><p>“I’m sure Fen had his reasons,” Paroo said.</p><p>“We’ll find out when he gets home,” Gerard added. His pretty new wife, Jiying, tittered and whispered something to Gerard making him laugh too.</p><p>“Stop trying to cause trouble because you’re jealous,” Macon finished up. “Those bandits would have slaughtered you and picked their teeth with your fingerbones.”</p><p>“I am not jealous,” Ethan protested.</p><p>His entire pack of relatives, arrayed around the long U-shaped table, gave him identical looks of disapproving disbelief. It ranged from the littlest cousins, newly allowed to eat with the adults and on their best behavior, on up to his elderly great aunts and uncles at the far ends, supervising the little ones. Jiying’s third cousin Evelyn, visiting from Ozigbow to see if she liked him enough to marry him and her escort of Ozigbow relatives shared the same expression. Evelyn sat across from him so he couldn’t avoid noticing. Even the fosterlings, one from each of the demesnes in the ninesquare, joined in. So did the three housemaids, serving the meal.</p><p>“I’m not,” Ethan mumbled and focused his attention on his dinner rather than argue more. He couldn’t believe it. Fen, the runt, had killed two notorious outlaws, taken their knives and horses as prizes, and then walked away from a mountain of coin. It made no sense, particularly when Fen could be counted on to rail about the need for money to operate the demesne. Naïve, awkward Fen, coming back to HighTower with a girlfriend. She was probably some grubby street girl unlike Evelyn Ozigbow, a well-connected, well-dowered lady of the Four Hundred. Evelyn, who had already announced she could do better than him and was leaving in the morning. He tried to tune the conversation swirling around him out, pondering instead which stallion Fen would select to have the privilege of breeding Creamy Girl.</p><hr/><p>“We want to thank you for letting us join your troupe, Marvolo,” Lannie said graciously. The day’s show was over and everyone was settling in for the night, preparing for the slow journey away from Fintney and east to Purnell. “We’d like to talk privately.”</p><p>“My pleasure,” he answered and led the way to his wagon. Lannie climbed in after him, followed by Fen. This wagon served all Marvolo’s needs: bed, writing desk, business requirements, lined with built-in cabinets and drawers for everything the troupe needed, plus overflow storage for costumes waiting to be repaired. They hung from hooks everywhere, blocking easy passage through the wagon and guaranteeing privacy. There were many fewer garments needing repair after Lannie took over and taught his actresses which end of the needle was which.</p><p>“Sure you don’t want to stay with us up the corridor to Purnell?” Marvolo asked, glancing at the remaining torn costumes still crowding the compact wagon. “You can take the Nourz to Panschin corridor north from there to HighTower. We’ll take weeks to get to Purnell so it’ll be warmer to travel.”</p><p>“How’d you know where HighTower is?” Fen asked suspiciously. “I thought you never went there.”</p><p>“I haven’t but I can read a map,” Marvolo said. “Since you’re HighTower and I know how the Ennaretee uses names, I’m assuming you’re going home.”</p><p>“True,” Fen said. “But people will expect us to travel that way, so we’re not. I want you to do a job for me on the way to Purnell.”</p><p>“Well now,” the Ringmaster said, settling himself back on the narrow bunk that served for sleep and seating. Lannie got his chair while Fen stood in the cramped corridor leading from front to back of the wagon rather than sit next to him. “That depends on what it is. I appreciate the help you both gave us, and I truly appreciate your killing Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne but I’m broke, overworked, and I’ll be short a Wildside savage after you leave.”</p><p>“I understand needing coin,” Fen said.</p><p>Lannie laughed and nodded in agreement.</p><p>“I want you to mail these postcards,” Fen said, holding up a sheaf of dirty white rectangles. “They’re already stamped. I got them numbered, one set for each waystation and demesne you’re gonna stop at between here and Purnell. If I miscounted, mail the extras on the trip south.”</p><p>Marvolo took the postcards and riffled through them. Lannie had written most of them, addressed to assorted DelFino relatives. Fen had a few as well. They had similar, minimal messages of being fine, safe, healthy, and traveling but with no stated destination. “I can do that.”</p><p>“I don’t want you to talk to DelFino or Orlov,” Lannie said firmly, channeling her DelFino relatives when they ordered the servants to do something unpleasant and dirty. “I know you need the coin. I keep noticing how close to bankruptcy you are.” She pointed to a badly patched leak in the roof of Marvolo’s wagon. Water from the drizzle outside dripped down the side of the cabinet, coming perilously close to a spangled damsel in distress costume. She would have never spotted it without all that time spent staring at stained ceilings under Ulla’s tutelage.</p><p>Marvolo sighed gustily and threw up his hands in open despair, then clutched his face.</p><p>Lannie watched dispassionately. “That doesn’t work on me anymore. Daddy did it all the time.”</p><p>The Ringmaster straightened up, his expression blandly smiling. “I said I wouldn’t turn you in to DelFino or Orlov and I won’t. But I won’t deny I need the money.”</p><p>“I understand,” Lannie said. “Favors have to be paid for. I would like you to have these. Be careful when you sell them so you don’t get cheated.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen said. “They’re not painted glass.”</p><p>Marvolo met Lannie’s eyes and hope leaped within his breast, but he kept his face carefully blank. He read the columns whenever he got access to a newspaper or magazine.</p><p>“Hold out your hand.”</p><p>The Ringmaster did and Lannie stretched out her closed, cupped hand over his and poured pearls into his palm. They caught the lantern light, gleaming and alive, tiny moons of crystalline snow. It hurt to let go of them, but she and Fen had agreed. Marvolo and his troupe had earned them and they had plenty more.</p><p>Marvolo stared openmouthed at the pea-sized pearls in his palm, then touched them cautiously with a finger. He rolled them around; eight of them and each one more gloriously beautiful than the next.</p><p>“They’re real.”</p><p>“Yes, they are.”</p><p>He looked up at Lannie. “I know what Orlov is famous for. I grew up in Nourz and I still got family there. I knew immediately why Orlov was desperate to find you. Why there was a wanted poster about you in every single waystation from Eljinn to Fintney. Why Eben saw a stranger bribing the waystation keeper to copy pages from his mil-rats logbook. Why you can’t be seen. Why you can’t go back to DelFino.”</p><p>“I’d rather not talk about it if you don’t mind,” Lannie said.</p><p>“I understand. This is very clever of you. I don’t dare report you to Orlov or DelFino because if I do, and they find out you traveled with me which they will, they’ll tear me, my people, my show into shreds looking for pearls. Rastislav brought some of the Pearls of Orlov to the cathedral when he was going to marry you, didn’t he.”</p><p>“Some of them,” Lannie agreed. “But I couldn’t marry him.”</p><p>“Quite understandable,” Marvolo said. “I know the stories. He’s an abusive, wife-beating, murdering drunk who’s old enough to be your father.”</p><p>He looked back at his palm, the Pearls luminescent and alive, demanding that he adore them. He couldn’t tear his eyes away as he said, “I grew up hearing about the Pearls of Orlov. No one I knew had ever seen one. I always thought the stories about them were grossly exaggerated.”</p><p>“They are not,” Lannie said.</p><p>“They are stunning.” He closed his palm with a gulp, concealing the Pearls from the light, and pressed his fist against his heart. “I know a jeweler in Makkafree. He’ll pay me fair. I can buy new wagons there. A new stage wagon, bigger and with better lighting. New horses. New props. New costumes. I can pay everyone.” Marvolo stopped suddenly and winked. “I can pay my agent.”</p><p>“He’s last on the list?” Fen asked, curious.</p><p>“He’s an agent.” Marvolo looked down at his closed hand, pressed to his heart and shuddered. “Just thinking about selling these beauties hurts.” He looked back at Lannie and Fen, watching him closely. “But I’ll do it. Too many people depend on me to fail them.”</p><p>“My brother, Charlton, says the same thing,” Lannie said sadly. “But he failed me.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that,” Marvolo said. “Anyway, I’ll mail your postcards while you, I assume, continue up the Pole-To-Pole Road to Darnay and then home.”</p><p>“That is possible,” Fen said. “The Ennaretee’s a big place and I have plenty of relatives who would take us in. We’ll be leaving for the night and we won’t return to the show in the morning.”</p><p>“You know to avoid every part of Fintney, right? Eben said he was told there were strangers in town asking about runaway girls and their savage boyfriends. The sheriff is looking too. Eben heard Ranaglia has some of their men out as well.”</p><p>“As I suspected and I thank you for the confirmation. We’ll circle the outskirts, keeping to the steppes,” Fen said. “With all those mil-rats your people signed for us, we won’t have to stop other than for water.”</p><p>“Good, good, good.”</p><p>Lannie stood to leave and Marvolo said, “wait. I have an idea.”</p><p>The grin bloomed across his face, wide and wicked. He glanced over at the cabinet crammed with scarves, feathers, boas, fans, parasols, and gaudy gimcrack jewelry that looked luxurious on stage and transformed into the cheapest colored glass and flaking gold paint when seen up close. “This might save you from having to spend the rest of your lives looking over your shoulders.”</p><p>Lannie and Fen exchanged glances. “Tell us more.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. You’ve been wonderful, I wanted to kiss you, and I’m so sorry for presuming.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The PostMaster left the manor house, his duty completed with the delivery of the accumulated mail fresh from Telduv. Bad weather and worse roads had delayed the normally slow mail service even more than usual, so weeks of mail arrived all at once. He left questions behind, questions <em>he</em> could not answer.</p><p>He left Iolanthe stewing over those questions. She checked maps and worked out timetables, trying to figure out the logic of a sudden batch of postcards from Lannie. Charlton and Jorge were working out on the estate, probably digging out irrigation ditches in some distant field somewhere. They had years of catching up to do on long-neglected tasks abandoned again in favor of the weeks-long surveying and camping trip with Walter. Her deduction wasn’t important enough to interrupt that work; she could not snap her fingers and produce Lannie. Whatever happened to Lannie had already happened and she could not rewind the clock.</p><p>So she waited: thinking, rethinking, fretting, and all the while restoring the household to order now that Walter and Naomi had departed for DelFino Castle.</p><p>Iolanthe did not convey her misgivings to Constance. Her mother-in-law had been ecstatic over the postcards and found nothing to question about their oddities. Iolanthe waited and when Charlton came home, she gave him the cards and said, “We need to talk, <em>after</em> your mother leaves and goes walking in the garden with Jorge in the evening.”</p><p>Charlton studied the postcards; a handful of virtually identical messages that said nothing, other than they were in Lannie’s handwriting.</p><p>“Yeah. You’re right. This feels wrong.”</p><hr/><p>They moved out to the terrace after dinner as always. It had been excruciating listening to Constance sob over Lannie’s disappearance, the renewed proof of life, and her agonized interrogation over why Charlton could go off to survey the wilderness for weeks but he could not search for his sister.</p><p>As Jorge and Constance left for their now customary after-dinner stroll through the weedy, twilight gardens, he paused and said to Charlton, “I will explain reality to your mother again.” He lowered his voice still more and added, “the timing of these postcards is concerning.”</p><p>“Thank you, Uncle Jorge,” Charlton said, rose, and bowed formally.</p><p>He sat down again and said to Iolanthe, “Do you want to move into the house for more privacy?”</p><p>She fanned herself against the heat. The house would be hotter for some hours to come.</p><p>“No, your mother will be busy showing the moonflower arbor to Jorge,” Iolanthe said. “She grows a different variety than we did at Orlov and they are coming into bloom. When Constance wasn’t weeping over Lannie all day, she talked about their perfume. They’ll be gone for at least an hour.”</p><p>“Good to know,” Charlton said. “Lannie wrote those postcards. I can’t tell from her writing if she was forced by that Fen character. Or someone in Ranaglia.” He groaned. “Truthfully, I wouldn’t put it past my dear third cousin, the daimyo of Ranaglia, to murder Lannie, steal the Pearls, and send a messenger out with postcards to cover her tracks.” He scowled, making his distaste for this particular relative plain.</p><p>“Oh dear,” Iolanthe said, paling. “I hadn’t thought of that. I agree it’s a false trail. It doesn’t fit her previous pattern. A postcard here, weeks later, another postcard, and then suddenly Fintney, the demesne of Wickersham, and every single waystation in between. Even more strangely, the postmarks indicate they’ve been moving at a snail’s pace.”</p><p>“Lannie could be in Ranaglia,” Charlton said, eyes closed in pain. “If they need her to lay a false trail by writing postcards, she might still be alive.”</p><p>“We could also be borrowing trouble.” Iolanthe began tapping her fan on the table, next to the emptied plate of dessert cookies. She wished she’d remembered her pen and notebook. “Perhaps she’s traveling with Fen to HighTower and they’re taking the most logical route, the 40° Latitude Road. I checked the maps. The 45° Latitude Road is essentially empty government land separating the demesnes. The 50° Latitude Road is more direct but it must be barely above freezing. But they’re practically crawling between waystations.”</p><p>“Or that Fen character could have persuaded Lannie to write a bunch of postcards, murdered her, left her body on the steppes, and is heading home with the Pearls and without my sister.”</p><p>“Yes, but then why travel so slowly? I keep remembering what Ulla wrote,” Iolanthe said. “Anyone can drop a postcard in a mailbox.”</p><p>“Yeah. Any luck with finding a penpal in the Ennagzee? Or the Ennaretee?” Charlton asked hopefully.</p><p>“Not yet. Ulla said Ottilie has already written officially, as DelFino’s matchmaker. So did Gladys on behalf of Orlov. No answers to date. I’ve already drafted a letter introducing myself to the daimyah of Wickersham. I know nothing about her but there is always hope she’ll write back with information.”</p><p>“I have to go to HighTower,” Charlton said, leaping to his feet. He began shadowboxing, his target so clear that Iolanthe could almost see it stagger and shudder with each body-breaking blow. “Even if Lannie is dead, it’s still worthwhile. I can beat Fen HighTower to death in front of his family for what he did to mine.”</p><p>Iolanthe couldn’t repress a moan of fear, seeing instantly what would happen. Charlton stopped slaughtering ghosts and slumped back into the chair next to her.</p><p>“Except I can’t. You, mama, and our peasants.”</p><p>“I know,” she said and took his hand in hers. “I’ll keep writing. I’m getting closer, especially if the daimyah of Wickersham is gracious enough to not ignore a stranger. Ulla is getting closer too, and now that she knows Millicent Avongale, she’s got entrée into the Ennagzee even if it is in in the western half instead of the eastern half.”</p><p>They stared out into the weedy gardens and watched the stars come out while silver-winged moths began fluttering over the distant flowers, flecks of moving pearly light. Similar stars would be shining on Lannie, if she was still alive. In the distance they could see Constance and Jorge standing under the moonflower arbor. Jorge had his arm around Constance and it looked like, from the way they stood, that Constance had been sobbing again over Lannie.</p><p>“Hmm,” said Iolanthe. She let go of Charlton’s hand and picked up the postcards and fanned through them again.</p><p>“You know,” she said, turning to meet his eyes. “If this is a false trail and it feels like one, we should tell Dimitri. He’s spending Orlov coin looking for Lannie. Even with the pearl earrings to sell, you don’t have coin to spare. Ulla wrote me that she’s broke. She spent her entire quarterly allowance and all her savings looking for Lannie. Zachery won’t permit her to take a loan against her next quarterly.”</p><p>She stopped and studied the postcards again as if they would deliver a fresh new message.</p><p>“It would be risky telling Dimitri,” she continued. “But he’s desperate to find Lannie and the Pearls. He can send men to check each of these waystations and we can’t.”</p><p>“I don’t know Dimitri anymore,” Charlton said morosely. “My best friend. I can’t trust that he would save my sister. But you’re right. He’ll jump on this clue.”</p><p>“Yes, he will,” Iolanthe said even more thoughtfully. She tapped her fan on the postcards spread out on the table.</p><p>“We don’t know much about Fen HighTower, but he does not come across as stupid or self-serving. Ulla’s notes from her discussions with Mr. and Mrs. Cardozo, their staff, and those prostitutes have been enlightening. It’s possible that Fen is genuinely helping Lannie. He’s from the Ennaretee and if he doesn’t know who she is, doesn’t know about you, doesn’t know about the Pearls, he may be trying to persuade her to come home with him.”</p><p>“To marry one of his peasants,” Charlton growled. “My sister, married off to some savage in the frozen north.”</p><p>“Only if she agrees, according to Mr. Cardozo,” Iolanthe said. “This may be a false trail but not one laid by Ranaglia. Lannie isn’t stupid and Fen may not be either. She must know that Orlov is hunting her or she would have come home by now. These postcards; her handwriting is exactly like all the others. It’s not shaky or uneven.”</p><p>“She may have written them voluntarily?” Charlton said and hope flared in his eyes.</p><p>“It’s possible,” Iolanthe said. “We don’t know what Fen told her or what she told him. That’s why I want to tell Dimitri. Let <em>him</em> go off on a wild goose chase and ignore where Lannie is really traveling to.”</p><p>“To HighTower.”</p><p>“It’s that or Northernmost because there is no reason to stop anywhere in between. According to the PostMaster, each free-city on the way north gets smaller than the one before it,” Iolanthe said. “Ranaglia won’t tell us the truth, not if it means keeping the Pearls and I no longer believe Lannie would go there. She doesn’t want to surrender the Pearls or she would have mailed them to us or to Orlov by now. She’s learning what they’re like and she’d be afraid of what Ranaglia would do to her. Or everyone else so she doesn’t dare beg for sanctuary in some random demesne. But HighTower is different. She already knows someone in the family even if he’s of minor importance.”</p><p>“Write to Dimitri,” Charlton said. “And then we wait.”</p><p>“We wait,” Iolanthe said. “In the meantime, I’ve been watching Jorge and your mother. They’re becoming closer. How do you feel about that relationship?”</p><p>Charlton smiled out the distant figures standing close together under the moonflower arbor surrounded by the overgrown, starlit gardens. They were much less weedy than they had been before. Jorge had been encouraging his mother to engage with caring for real flowers as well as her fantasy embroidered flowers and her fanciful arrangements for the house.</p><p>“I’m in favor,” he said. “I think Ulla and Lannie would be too. We also need to arrange for more frequent mail delivery. Once a week or so isn’t working.”</p><hr/><p>“We’re making good time, Lannie,” Fen said. “Three horses and only stopping for water once a day make us fast. We’ll be at Darnay before you know it.”</p><p>“Okay,” she answered. She glanced at him; her expressive face suddenly pensive.</p><p>“Is something wrong?” he asked.</p><p>“No, nothing,” she answered and smiled at him. They’d be at HighTower in a few more weeks at this rate. In a few more weeks, she’d get to watch the sweetheart Fen never talked about run to meet him, throw her arms around him and kiss him. He had to have a sweetheart at HighTower. He was too caring, competent, and attractive not to have some wonderful girl pining for him. He never said anything about thinking about <em>her</em> as a sweetheart. Or as a woman to be used. She was just a fellow wayfarer. He wasn’t like that awful Rastislav in the least. Or Reg and Killem, who were worse.</p><p>Except they were all male. Men demanded certain intimacies. She glanced over at Fen again. Those intimacies didn’t seem so frightening, if they were with him. Every time she’d hugged Fen, it had felt wonderful. They had almost kissed at Mr. Obermatt’s livery stable and the memory still thrilled. Watching Fen prance and leap on Marvolo’s stage disguised as a Wildside savage had been exciting. She’d watched every rehearsal and show, spellbound. He’d worn a loincloth and his hair flew free; very little of his body had been hidden and he’d been so attractive. What would it be like to run her fingers across his biceps? To stroke his chest and feel the hard muscle under the silky wisps of chest hair? To run her fingers up his thighs? And perhaps, just maybe, a little higher. A peek. A touch. A glance. A hint at a mystery she wanted to solve with him.</p><p>She could feel herself wanting to melt into a pool of heat, scratch an itch she’d never felt so strongly before.</p><p>What would it feel like if he kissed her? She swallowed a moan. He was probably thinking about whoever was waiting for him at HighTower. Fen would never betray anyone he was sworn to. He hadn’t betrayed her over the Pearls of Orlov and he had <em>wanted</em> them. The Pearls were a provocation that would bring the strongest man to his knees, but Fen had been able to master himself and refuse the temptation.</p><p>The thought struck her again. Charlton was strong enough to resist the lure of the Pearls. Did he ever once think about what happened to her? Marvolo had implied that Charlton cared but how would a traveling playwright and show ringmaster know?</p><p>As Fen said, she’d find out eventually. But only after they reached HighTower.</p><hr/><p>Fen caught Lannie glancing at him, but she didn’t say anything. What could Lannie be thinking? The sunlight caught in her hair, making the strands glow. One of the actresses had given Lannie narrow, silky blue ribbons to tie her braids up and she’d woven them through the plaits and tied bows, catching her hair in place. He knew how her hair looked, lustrous and unbound and flowing over her shoulders down to her waist and he wanted to comb it out for her. How pretty Lannie was. He couldn’t stop looking at her, yet she didn’t see him as a man. No surprise after what Rastislav had wanted to do to her and then Reg and Killem ensuring she would never let a man near her.</p><p>Or would she?</p><p>She’d watched every rehearsal and show that he was in, prancing on the tiny stage in a tinier loincloth. He’d felt silly at first. Soon enough he’d gotten over his awkwardness and it became fun. The audience would cheer and hiss, the women being especially vocal. Lannie would watch eagerly from the sides and he could pretend he was dancing for her, like he would in HighTower at the Solstices and Equinoxes. He wanted to dance for Lannie forever, in front of everyone, and show how much he wanted her. How much he loved her.</p><p>Those damned wretched Pearls. She would think he only wanted the Pearls and not her. He’d scatter them across the Pole-To-Pole Road to prove he meant it, but that wasn’t the answer either. HighTower, duty, honor, and all the people he’d sworn fealty to demanded he bring them home. A few Pearls would pay the taxes. More Pearls to pay other debts. Still more Pearls to provide dowries for HighTower’s daughters, bride prices for HighTower’s sons. Pearls would provide roads, barns, new roofs, schooling, a new grain mill, steel tools; the list was endless and sounded like the same list that Charlton DelFino had, from what Lannie remembered.</p><p>Scattering the Pearls across the Pole-To-Pole Road would be a grand, but empty gesture. He could almost feel the answer waiting for him, the answer the stars had promised. What could he and Lannie do with the Pearls of HighTower? If they were allowed, if they were careful, if they didn’t let the Pearls ensnare anyone who saw them and then tear the demesne apart with blood and violence. He could not admit it to Lannie but even with the Pearls swaddled inside his second-best shirt, lurking at the bottom of Coppertail’s saddlebag, they sang to him. Not as much as they had when he had first beheld them but they did not lay quiet and still. Every night, the temptation rose. He could steal the Pearls and disappear.</p><p>But that would mean abandoning not just HighTower, his family, his vassals. He would have to abandon Lannie and he would never do that. Lannie, with her pretty brown eyes and lustrous brown hair, Lannie who never complained, Lannie who joked and sang and who never gave up.</p><p>Lannie who didn’t see him as a man. A friend, a partner, a companion, but not her lover. Not her husband.</p><p>He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle, overcome by the thoughts of the shape of her calves, her eager smile, how much better the coverall that Marvolo gave her fitted, showing off her slim body rather than drowning her in drab cloth. Another long day, followed by a longer night and weeks of them to come until they reached home and Lannie chose someone else.</p><hr/><p>Decision made, Lannie walked back to their camp, her arms full. Fen had begun looking for a camp site an hour or so before sunset and had gotten lucky almost immediately. That rarely happened and it gave her unexpected free time to explore while he got the horses secured. Grasses nodded at her and she smiled at them. They would be useful and please Fen. She gathered the driest grasses and picked up twigs near the edges of what looked to be a tiny creek at the bottom of a gully. She studied it, trying to see it the way Fen would. The muddy thread of water winding its way through the dense underbrush was so small, there was no point in hacking a path for the horses. From the looks of the steep banks, this was a seasonal stream, one that swelled and grew with heavy rains and dwindled down to nothing during the dry season. The vegetation crowding the banks supported her theory. The bushes were similar to the ones that crowded streams back home; shrubs and small trees that liked their feet wet at least part of the year.</p><p>She felt so proud. She recognized what was in front of her. She’d paid attention. Ulla would be proud. Did Ulla care? Eventually she would find out. When they reached HighTower and she could safely write her cousin a postcard more than two sentences long. And mama, who might understand now. If Charlton had gotten her first postcard and been able to save her from dying from Mistress Vaughn’s poisoned tisanes. If she had been correct in her suspicions and that was another thing she wouldn’t know until she reached HighTower and could write home.</p><p>All wasted thoughts because she had no control over events at home. Only now. Only here. With Fen.</p><p>“I got lucky! I have twigs for the fire,” Lannie caroled as she neared Fen, crouched over a tiny heap of tinder that was refusing to catch.</p><p>“Stack it up,” he replied absently. All his attention was focused on coaxing a spark from tinder and flint and then, there it was. The insignificant flare of red that he could encourage into a tiny flame. Once he was sure he had caught a flame again, he sat back on his haunches to see what Lannie gathered. She never fussed about being ignored while he was trying to light a fire. It was a pleasant change from the show people who worked around their lack of skill by carrying embers snuggled inside a blanket of moss in a lidded ceramic pot. Tinder and flint were considered too slow and primitive, even though they were reliable. The show people had been distraught when someone — not him! — had neglected checking the embers and let them die. At that point, his tinder and flint and skill had been welcomed.</p><p>After mint tea (Marvolo had given them some) and mil-rats, they relaxed and enjoyed the fire. The twigs Lannie had brought were green and damp, making the fire snap and spark. The hobbled horses remained close by, nosed at grass, and settled themselves. The sparks glowed brighter and brighter as twilight sank into dusk. Dusk would transform itself, minute by minute into full night. The stars were gradually filling the sky, the brightest ones first and then the smaller ones coming into view. They spoke of nothing and everything, looking for connections between people they knew. Eventually the evening came to its natural end.</p><p>Fen glanced upwards at the constellations peeking through the light, shifting wisps of clouds. “Time to settle in,” he said.</p><p>Lannie got up and sat down next to him, then wrapped her arms around Fen, surprising him. He didn’t dare move and he wanted it to last forever, the feel of her arms around him and her face so close to his.</p><p>“Fen?” Lannie said.</p><p>“Yes?” To his intense relief his voice didn’t squeak.</p><p>She leaned in, he thought his heart would stop, and she brushed her lips against his. And again. He held perfectly still, not wanting to spook her, not wanting to show how much he wanted her lest she fear him like Rastislav or Reg and Killem.</p><p>And then she pulled away.</p><p><a id="_Hlk64737328" name="_Hlk64737328"></a>“I’m sorry,” Lannie whispered and stared into the fire rather than meet his eyes. “I know you must have a sweetheart in HighTower but I wanted to kiss you.” She lifted her glistening, swimming eyes back up to Fen, dumbstruck and bereft. “You’ve been wonderful and I wanted to kiss you and I’m so sorry for presuming.”</p><p>She turned away from him and he thought his heart would shatter into bits when he saw the tears trickle down her cheek and catch the light of the fire.</p><hr/><p>“Your sister sent this information?” Mr. Parminder asked.</p><p>“Yes,” Dimitri answered. “I want RedHawk to engage a team and check every waystation between Fintney and Purnell. You must find Miss Yilanda.”</p><p>“You are aware, I trust, that anyone can drop a postcard in a mailbox?” Mr. Parminder asked.</p><p>Dimitri leaned forward over Mr. Parminder’s desk, his hands perilously close to the framed picture of Mrs. Parminder and their children. He scowled at Mr. Parminder; an angry bear dressed in fine silk bedecked with hundreds of seed pearls shaping the Orlov sigil on his chest.</p><p>“Find her,” Dimitri hissed. “Or Orlov will destroy you and everyone and everything you hold dear.”</p><p>“I always deliver,” Mr. Parminder said, refusing to flinch. “How do you wish to handle the demesnes between Fintney and Purnell? I cannot send John RedHawk a-visiting. They would not allow him access.”</p><p>“I will visit each one personally,” Dimitri said.</p><p>“Very good, my lord. I will present you with an updated bill as soon as John returns.”</p><p>“Find Miss Yilanda. Cost is no object. The daimyo of Orlov <em>demands</em> you succeed.”</p><p>“It will be done,” Mr. Parminder said.</p><p>He did not move as Dimitri stalked from his office, slamming every door on his way to the street. His mind raced with speculations about how Orlov was going to pay him. Their finances were, according to a very discreet personal investigation, on increasingly shaky ground. A demesne reduced to selling family heirlooms and art objects at auction houses was a demesne nearing bankruptcy. John RedHawk was correct. Finding Miss Yilanda meant finding the key to Orlov’s deceptions. John was also correct that the thought of turning an eighteen-year-old girl — frightened enough to run away with a savage from the Ennaretee — over to anyone from Orlov was becoming increasingly distasteful. He glanced at the portrait of his wife and children, still quivering slightly from the violence of slammed doors. He steadied it, thinking of how Dimitri willfully shattered the paperweight from his oldest daughter. She would soon be Yilanda DelFino’s age. The thought of a drunken roué like Rastislav Orlov raping her made him want to vomit. But he had sworn to deliver Yilanda DelFino and his family, his business, and his employees’ livelihoods were at stake. Sacrifices had to be made and he would sacrifice Yilanda DelFino to save his own people.</p><hr/><p>Lannie lurched to her feet and stumbled into the darkness.</p><p>“Lannie! Don’t go,” Fen called, leaping to his own feet. He had to stop her. The small gully she had described, narrow and steep, would be a deathtrap in the dark for anyone.</p><p>He had better night vision than she did and he caught up quickly, as she stood outside the circle of firelight staring into the darkness. She had wrapped her arms around herself and was trembling.</p><p>He stepped behind her and repeated, “Lannie, don’t go. Don’t leave me. I want to put my arms around you but I don’t want to frighten you.”</p><p>“You won’t.” Her voice was thick with unshed tears.</p><p>He hugged her close to him. She was stiff, unyielding, and he held her in the dark, listening to the night sounds and wondering why he couldn’t open his fool mouth and say what he felt. His tongue was tied and he felt seven kinds of a fool.</p><p>Better to begin at the beginning with a fact.</p><p>“I don’t have a sweetheart at home, Lannie,” he said. “I hadn’t met anyone I was serious about and then I met you. I want you to be my sweetheart. I’ve wanted you for a long time but I couldn’t say anything because I didn’t want to scare you more about a man than you already were. What you said about Rastislav and then Reg and Killem. I’m not like them.”</p><p>She softened against his body, her back to his chest, and he wished he could move his hands but he didn’t dare, keeping them carefully away from her breasts, so soft and yielding under her coverall. He had to wrench his mind back under control.</p><p>“I know you’re not,” she whispered. “You’ve proved that every day since I met you.”</p><p>“I couldn’t say anything,” he said. “I was afraid you’d think I wanted the Pearls instead of you.”</p><p>“I know you don’t,” she answered, her voice a little stronger. “I wake up every morning alive and you’re still there and so are the Pearls.”</p><p>She shifted around in his arms and suddenly they were nose to nose. He was so close and he wanted her. He leaned down to kiss her, as gently as a silver-winged moth alighting on a night-blooming flower and with the same intentions.</p><p>She sighed and melted closer, her lips so soft against his and he would never let go when one of the horses whinnied loudly, shattering the moment and reality returned with a slap.</p><p>“Coppertail,” Fen said and wanted to curse his favorite gelding.</p><p>“What’s out there?” Lannie asked, clutching him tighter. Her touch was thrilling and only duty and the fear of what Coppertail sensed forced him to pay attention to his surroundings.</p><p>“Don’t know. We’re going back to the fire.”</p><p>He led her back. She built up the fire while he went to check the horses.</p><p>Lannie waited anxiously, listening to the night sounds, while she fed the fire, grass stem by stem. The living sounds vanished when Coppertail neighed, even while the breeze never stopped whispering through the grasses and shrubs. As the insects, birds, and little frogs in the creek stirred themselves, she was able to relax a tiny bit. The other horses seemed calmer, or at least she couldn’t hear them or Fen. They were restless, but they didn’t seem spooked, wanting to tear off into the unknown steppes at night. Good thing, too. They’d step in some burrow and break a leg. Or blunder into that gully.</p><p>Fen came back into the circle of firelight. “I couldn’t find anything, couldn’t hear anything, see anything.”</p><p>Lannie giggled suddenly. “Maybe Coppertail didn’t like us leaving the fire. They watch us, you know.”</p><p>He laughed. “That could be. We’re a herd together, us and them, and herds need to stick together and not go wandering off.”</p><p>He put his arms around her. “I meant every word, Lannie. I’ve never met anyone like you and I want you to be my sweetheart and if you want, I want more.”</p><p>She smiled at him. “Okay.”</p><p>“I’d like to kiss you.” I’d like to do a lot more. He firmly squashed the enticing thought of Lannie’s naked arms around him, her naked body pressed to him with open desire.</p><p>“I would like to kiss you too.” She stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips against his and slowly, gradually, she opened her mouth to his.</p><hr/><p>The frog chorus got louder as it got later. Fen reluctantly tore himself away from Lannie’s sweet mouth and glanced to where the three horses were hobbled. They were still restless, staying close, and remaining bunched up despite his not being able to locate whatever it was that disturbed them. He glanced upwards. The cloud cover was thickening, the breeze had quickened. Rain might be coming. He’d been wrong regularly in the past but they were now on the southern edge of the Ennaretee and he recognized the patterns better. Rain in the morning.</p><p>“We have to sleep,” he said. “I want to be moving at first light.”</p><p>Lannie dragged herself back from dreamy kisses to dreary reality. “Do you think there might be someone out there?” she whispered.</p><p>It could be bandits. Every waystation had wanted posters about bandits and according to Fen, the number of posters had not declined despite the fact that they had crossed the 40° Latitude Corridor and entered the Ennaretee. He had been appalled since the presence of wanted posters implied the demesne lords on either side of the Pole-To-Pole Corridor did not perform their duty of patrolling the corridor. These Ennaretee daimyos were as bad as the Ennagzee daimyos. Dirt eaters, every one of them, and not men like in his own ninesquare.</p><p>“I don’t know. We’re stuck here for the night. Breaking camp, moving, and setting up a new one in the dark is dangerous. We’re better off here. I want to beat the rain.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said.</p><p>She fell asleep almost immediately. Fen did not, but he never did and this night in particular, he had demanding body needs. He was amazed Lannie hadn’t noticed his rigid cock, or perhaps she hadn’t understood what she was pressed up against. That wasn’t a surprise, he thought. She was not an experienced adventuress and from what she had told him, she’d led a sheltered life. He carefully inspected the camp’s perimeter again, checked and soothed the horses, took care of urgent, pressing needs, and rolled himself up at last, next to Lannie.</p><p>She was so close, so warm, his body pressed up against hers. He commanded his body to behave and slipped into lurid dreams of tasting her sweetness more deeply and intimately.</p><hr/><p>“I will come with you,” Rastislav ordered. “You may not visit those demesnes without me. Doors open to me that will not open to you.”</p><p>Dimitri sneered openly at his daimyo glaring at him, relaxed more comfortably in his daimyo’s luxurious chair, and put up his feet onto his daimyo’s expensive mahogany desk in his daimyo’s private office. It belonged to him now. He buffed his fingernails on his shirtfront while Rastislav stewed at the open disrespect yet did nothing but loom over him as if he could intimidate by his mere presence.</p><p>“You will stay here with the rotted ham,” Dimitri said coldly. “You have not finished healing from your injuries and it is not safe for you to travel.”</p><p>“Injuries you inflicted upon me!” Rastislav screamed. He lunged for the decanter, full of red, red wine, resting on the table next to him and swung it at Dimitri’s head, so close and vulnerable.</p><p>Dimitri was faster. He shoved himself away from the desk, the chair’s casters squealing, and was on his feet. He lunged back at Rastislav and gleefully backhanded the sot across his mouth, shoving him back with blows to the head and shoulders. The decanter smashed onto the carpet, flinging glass shards and wine onto every surface.</p><p>Rastislav cringed and yielded, his still-healing wrist on fire. He curled himself into a ball, trying to avoid the broken glass. To his fearful horror, Dimitri deliberately, carefully, kicked him in the abdomen despite him submitting. The same side, the same kidney. Fresh new pain flared across his guts.</p><p>“Another kick to the other kidney?” Dimitri purred; his mouth close to the sot’s ear. “You’ll never stop pissing blood until you die in agony. I want to see you suffer. You murdered my mother. You killed my baby brother before he had a chance to live. You treated my sister worse than a serf. You betrayed the demesne. You lost the Pearls. But papa and Uncle Ljubo insist I keep you alive. They insist you remain here in Barsoom. So does Madame Orlov. Your father.”</p><p>He bared his teeth and delivered the coup de grâce.</p><p>“Your <em>grandfather</em> spoke to me last night in my dreams. He was … <em>displeased</em> with you.”</p><p>Rastislav cringed more, hearing again his vicious, vindictive grandfather’s voice. The old man had made his childhood a misery and it was only by the grace of Madame Orlov herself that his grandfather had not appeared in his own dreams. If his grandfather had spoken to Dimitri, he had no hope left. Retrieving the Pearls would not save him, nor would fathering an army of sons. Those deeds would merely lessen the agony that awaited him at the hands of his ancestors. But the agony would be lessened rather than tripled as it would if he failed.</p><p>Albion, hovering anxiously in the corner of the study, steeled himself and inserted himself into the conversation.</p><p>“My dearest friend and father of my grandchildren,” he announced. “I will take care of your injuries so when your nephew locates my wayward daughter, you can wed and father an army of sons.”</p><p>He smiled ingratiatingly at the two Orlovs. The lines he had been rehearsing for just such an occasion came tripping off his tongue.</p><p>“I hardly know how to tell you this. I was terrified, I must admit.” Albion posed nobly, clutching his hands to his chest and looking distraught. “I endured a ghostly visitation in my own dreams.”</p><p>“What?” Dimitri said. The lying ham.</p><p>“Madame Orlov does not appear to anyone outside of our family,” Rastislav spat out, between spasms of pain ricocheting between his wrist and his abdomen. He sidled further away from Dimitri’s foot and the shards from the broken decanter. His nephew was running mad. He would enjoy inflicting more pain.</p><p>“Shut up. Let the rotted ham speak,” Dimitri ordered.</p><p>“A woman, terrifying to behold,” Albion said. “Wearing an opulent gown of rich scarlet, regal and haughty, and dripping with pearls. I believe she might have been Madame Orlov but she did not deign to tell <em>me</em> her name. She ordered me to stay at your side, my dearest friend, to guide you, to protect you, so that you can marry my daughter and father the sons she wants you to have.”</p><p>He adjusted his pose into that of an earnest supplicant, begging to be believed.</p><p>“That sounds like the bitch,” Dimitri allowed. It was impossible that Madame Orlov had visited Albion’s dreams. On the other hand, if it kept Rastislav in check, he would pretend to believe the ridiculous lie. Albion had seen Madame Orlov’s portrait often enough since moving in so he could provide a detailed description the sot would believe.</p><p>“I do not believe you,” Rastislav said and stiffened himself.</p><p>As he feared, Dimitri loomed over him and said, “you may not believe Albion. But you will remain here.” His nephew bared his teeth again and kicked Rastislav in the other kidney, making him double over in agony. He rolled and glass crunched under his hips, tearing through his clothes into his flesh and adding blood to the wine.</p><p>“I will break your other wrist if you disobey papa and Uncle Ljubo,” Dimitri said. “Remember, only their loyalty to you is keeping me from killing you. Albion!”</p><p>“Yes, Dimitri,” Albion replied smartly.</p><p>“If the sot leaves this building for any reason and Matsuda <em>will</em> tell me, I will personally hand you over to Goryonov and his thugs. I will personally help Goryonov … show you the errors of your ways.” Dimitri smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. His eyes glowed with the sheer joy of torturing someone who deserved it and Albion cringed back.</p><p>“Have no fears. I will ensure my dearest friend and father of my grandchildren stays safe at home and makes a full recovery. I will supervise the doctor myself,” Albion managed. He had to get out of here, he thought desperately. If he could just get out of Barsoom, he might have a chance. But in the meantime, he was trapped in the barking mad townhouse. Goryonov couldn’t touch him, even if Dimitri and Rastislav Orlov could.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. I can’t do this to my mother. I have to let her know I’m alive.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lannie woke up and the fire had yet to spring to life, no surprise considering the light drizzle trying to sneak inside her tarp. The waxed and oiled cloth wasn’t as good as a tent — or a roof! — at keeping out the rain but it was far better than nothing.</p><p>Why was the fire not lit? Anxiety lanced through her. Fen was gone. She sat up, blinking and heedless of the drizzle. He, astonishingly, was still dead asleep next to her. He always woke up with the sun or earlier.</p><p>The horses were nearby, bunched up and uneasy. She exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. They were safe, here, and all accounted for.</p><p>It had been a difficult night. The horses remained restless and Fen had gotten up frequently, waking her on and off, but he never located what upset them. He had to be tired and that was why he still slept.</p><p>Lannie studied the horses warily. Tabasco looked particularly hostile this morning, showing her teeth and pawing at the ground. She recoiled. Better to leave them be. She could manage Handsome easily by now. As she gained experience, Coppertail became more amenable. Unfortunately, Tabasco had a low tolerance for amateurs. The sorrel mare wanted Fen’s able hands caring for her, not Lannie’s inept ones. From her demeanor, the mare would nip and kick if she came near the horses. Lannie spared a thought to Creamy Girl; wherever she and Highstepper were now. There was a wonderful, even-tempered, tolerant horse who took everything in stride. Perhaps Mr. Obermatt kept his word and sent them on to HighTower. She swallowed a sigh of regret. She couldn’t do anything about that situation anymore than she could manage the horses in front of her.</p><p>The fire, now, that she could do something about. After she took care of personal business.</p><hr/><p>Lannie crouched, her coverall bunched up around her ankles, and the hairs prickled on the back of her bare neck. She was not alone. Whatever was upsetting the horses was still around.</p><p>Watching her.</p><p>The concealing brush rustled while she struggled to yank her clothing back up enough to run back to Fen. Something was working its way through the vegetation towards her. Twigs cracked and she had to finish right now and run. She debated if she should scream and wake Fen and spook the horses except <em>they’d</em> panic and run and fall into the gully, breaking a leg.</p><p>She froze with indecision and panic, unable even to work her buttons. A head popped out of the dense grass, staring at her with vivid yellow eyes and a red maw, showcasing a mouthful of gleaming fangs. It took another moment of frozen panic for her brain to process what she saw. A wolf. Not big enough. A coyote. Smaller. A jackal or a fox. Very small. Something else. A giant rat? A giant rat! Not a rat. Or a horde of rats. A … dog? A little, matted dog.</p><p>The dog yipped at her and she unfroze, squealed, jumped, and tripped over her feet and landed badly, scratching her hands as she caught her balance. Behind her, she could hear the horses’ agitation. Then Tabasco whinnied, followed by Coppertail, waking Fen with a shout.</p><p>“Lannie!” His panic was plain.</p><p>“Over here!” she called back, finally untangling her coverall enough that she could get her arms into the sleeves and yank it in place. She buttoned it hastily. The dog quivered at her feet in terror and hope. It stared at her imploringly and whined. It was emaciated, skin and bones overlaid with matted dark brown fur.</p><p>“I’m coming!” Fen shouted again.</p><p>“Take care of the horses first!” she called back. “I found our night terror.”</p><p>“Don’t go near it!” he screamed even louder. “I don’t want to stitch you back up!”</p><p>She giggled, then could not stop laughing with relief, while trying to coax the dog to her. Fen crashed through the waist-high grass behind her, nearly running her over. The dog darted back into the undergrowth with terrified yips.</p><p>He grabbed her. “Are you all right? What was it? Did it bite you somewhere?”</p><p>“It’s fine,” she managed between giggles. “I’m fine.”</p><p>His panic receding, Fen said, “wait. You’re laughing?”</p><p>She beamed at him and threw her arms around him and kissed him. He stood stock-still for a moment, then began kissing her back in earnest, heedless of what the horses thought or where they were or what was lurking in the undergrowth. Coppertail’s loud snort and Tabasco’s even louder whinny brought him back to his surroundings. He let go of Lannie and took a step back, trying to spot the night terror.</p><p>“It’s funny and you’ll laugh too,” Lannie sang. “You are so brave. Can you get me a mil-rat? I’ll lure our night terror out.”</p><p>“What? What is it? You’re shaking.”</p><p>“A dog,” Lannie said. “A little dog.”</p><p>He smiled suddenly. “Great work, Lannie. We can eat it, yeah?”</p><p>Her mouth dropped open in horror. “No, we cannot!” she shot back. “It’s a dog, a pet, and it’s my pet now.”</p><p>“We’re not dragging some dog with us to HighTower,” Fen said.</p><p>“Weren’t you the one who’s been telling me for weeks how wonderful it is to travel with dogs to guard the camp and alert you to anything dangerous?” Lannie said.</p><p>“Those are trained dogs. Wolf-sized Ennaretee dogs who scare the living daylights out of outlaws,” Fen said. “Not someone’s useless, untrained stray pet that’s gone feral and is gonna be crawling with fleas.”</p><p>“Ennaretee dogs don’t get fleas?”</p><p>“Yeah, they do and we groom them,” he admitted, “but after a few weeks in the open steppes, that dog is infested and then we’ll be infested. Food is a better choice.”</p><p>“We are not eating my dog,” Lannie said stoutly. “Besides, he’s starving. Nothing but skin and bones so it’s not like there’s anything to eat. A mil-rat will lure him out.”</p><p>Fen grinned. “I get it now. We’ll fatten him up and then we’ll eat him. I’ve been missing meat since I lost my best snare.”</p><p>“No! Absolutely not! This is my dog and I found him and we are not eating him.”</p><p>“I don’t see any dogs, Lannie.” Fen grinned even more broadly.</p><p>“Get me a mil-rat and you will and then we can stop arguing in the rain.”</p><p>Fen pointed at her bosom. “You need to fix your buttons. And I still say we should eat the dog.”</p><p>She glanced down at her front. Her coverall looked like she’d buttoned it in the dark, gaps hanging open revealing flashes of bare skin. She pointed back at Fen.</p><p>“He can hear you. I’ll never be able to coax him out of the grass with you threatening his life.”</p><p>Coppertail whinnied again, followed by Tabasco, who sounded distinctly annoyed and anxious.</p><p>“Time to go,” Fen said, all business again. “I’ll break camp and get the horses. You find the dog but if you have to hunt around for him, we’re leaving him behind.</p><p>He spun and ran back to the camp, returning with a mil-rat. “We got to move, Lannie so be quick.”</p><p>“Okay,” and she turned her attention to luring out the stray. After she rebuttoned her coverall, embarrassed by the peeks of her body she’d shown to Fen.</p><p>It didn’t take long. The smell of a yam mil-rat brought the stray inching towards her, quivering with fear and ravenous with hunger. She broke off a small chunk of the mil-rat and held it up into the rain. The drizzle would soften it and make it easier for the dog to eat.</p><p>She crouched and held it out, watching the dog try to make up its mind: danger or food.</p><p>Decision made, the dog snatched the bite and swallowed it whole. She fed it several more bites and then, to her relief, the dog let her pick it up and run back to Fen.</p><p>He was finishing up with the horses and was unimpressed with their new companion.</p><p>“Not much meat on this one,” he said, poking a finger through the matted fur and feeling ribs.</p><p>“I will not let you eat my dog,” Lannie said.</p><p>He chuckled. “Let me see him.” He took the dog, petted and soothed it, and then upended it swiftly to yips of protest.</p><p>“A bitch,” Fen announced, handing it back. “You should name her Ulla.”</p><p>“No!” Lannie said and swatted at him. “I’ll name her Pearl.”</p><p>“Better stick with something that doesn’t make people connect you to the Pearls of Orlov,” Fen replied. “That would make better sense.”</p><p>“Fine. Brownie,” Lannie retorted, annoyed because he was right.</p><p>“Fine. Brownie’ll have to ride with you because she’ll never keep up with those short little legs. Take Handsome. I’ve got Coppertail. Tabasco’s got the baggage today. Let’s move.”</p><hr/><p>Brownie yipped and struggled in her arms, but, as far as Lannie could tell, nothing had changed. They’d ridden north for several hours, paralleling the gully. Fen had spotted a game trail that would keep them parallel to the Pole-To-Pole Road without having to travel on it.</p><p>“What’s the matter with that dog?” Fen asked.</p><p>“I don’t know,” Lannie said worriedly. “I think she needs to piddle.”</p><p>“Again? Terrific,” Fen muttered. “We’ll never get past Daur’s territory at this rate.”</p><p>“Does that matter? This is the Ennaretee,” Lannie said. “You’ve said a lot about how wonderful it all is compared to Barsoom.”</p><p>“It is wonderful,” he replied. “At least, my ninesquare is. Daur, though. They don’t patrol for bandits. Remember? I told you about my run-in in the empty corridor separating Krangland and Daur.”</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said. “That’s not normal, is it.”</p><p>“No, it’s not. Not for us. Daur didn’t impress me, or I should say the ruling family didn’t. Hands seemed competent.” Fen struggled to dredge up hints and sideways looks from months ago, finally falling back on Pello and Helion’s counsel. “I want to avoid them.”</p><p>The small dog was becoming increasingly frantic in her efforts to leap out of Lannie’s arms, squirming and wiggling.</p><p>He groaned. “Fine. Let the dog down.”</p><p>Lannie awkwardly slid off Handsome, trying not to drop Brownie while not irritating Handsome more than he already was. He didn’t care for a wiggly little dog being held right behind his neck where the dog could bite him. It made him twitchy, surprising since he was normally blasé about his surroundings.</p><p>She let go of Brownie, expecting the dog to squat. Instead, Brownie bolted into the dense grass, barking madly.</p><p>“I’ve got to save her!” Lannie darted after Brownie, fighting and scrambling through the tall grass that barred her way.</p><p>“Damnation,” Fen swore, dismounted and hurriedly got the horses secured and then, as he was half expecting, he heard Lannie’s shrill cry.</p><p>“<em>Fen</em>! Come quick!”</p><p>Crows flew up in response to Lannie’s voice. As he had feared.</p><p>It did not sound like she was in immediate danger but he didn’t dawdle. He ran after her and skidded to a stop at the edge of a small clearing in the tall grass.</p><hr/><p>Lannie fell to her knees at the sight before her. Several bodies, nude, weather-beaten, decayed, and devoured by carrion eaters enough that it was hard to tell age other than by size. Gender was likewise becoming blurry. Unlike Fen, when he had her strip Reg and Killem’s bodies, whoever had slaughtered these people took everything and left nothing, not even the dignity of underclothing, behind.</p><p>Nothing had protected them. Bones showed. Limbs were missing. Everything soft had already been eaten. Maggots heaved and flies swarmed.</p><p>She couldn’t stop herself from gagging up breakfast. Brownie crouched in the center of strewn limbs and contorted torsos and howled, a forlorn sobbing of loss and grief.</p><p>“I think we found her owners,” Fen said, wrenching himself out of shock into practical matters that he had control over. He began studying the small clearing, trampled by many feet, hoofs, paws, and talons.</p><p>The victims had chosen an ideal campsite, tucked into the hollow of the hills, shielded from the wind, near the little creek by the faint gurgle of water, close to the road. It was also undefendable, something an amateur would miss. It was the kind of campsite he avoided in favor of a less desirable, further out one that went ignored. Desirable campsites drew competition. Competent outlaws, like competent Steppes Riders, knew every desirable campsite in their territory. Especially if they were close to the road. It was safer sleeping on the edge of the road than at a highly desirable, nearby hidden campsite. The edge of the road meant the chance of witnesses and a larger group of people, providing safety in numbers.</p><p>Lannie lurched to her feet, turning away so she couldn’t see the sprawled, chewed, hacked and desecrated bodies. “Is this Reg and Killem’s work?”</p><p>“I don’t think so. Much too far north. And,” — Fen walked over to check the arm of one of the victims, torn from the body but not yet dragged off into the brush — “upper arms still got most of their skin.”</p><p>He grabbed Lannie’s arm, as she stood shaking and shocked. “Lannie, we cannot stay here. Whoever did this to Brownie’s owners might still be around. These bodies aren’t that old, a few weeks at best.”</p><p>“We can’t leave them like this,” she protested.</p><p>“Yes, we can,” Fen replied fiercely. “Their souls have moved on and their mortal remains are feeding the steppes. It’s not what I would do if I had a choice but I need to keep us alive more than I want to bury them. I’d report this to Daur but I can’t trust them. We have to get home and then we’ll see what we can do.”</p><p>“Their families, they’ll never know what happened,” Lannie murmured, tears in her eyes. At least mama, Charlton, and Ulla knew she was still alive. Or had been. She had to send them a real postcard, at least one, and let them know she missed them desperately. But Fen was right. If outlaws found them, they could end up like this unlucky group, feeding the steppes with their bodies.</p><p>She shuddered, rooted to the ground. Brownie howled at her feet.</p><p>“Lannie,” Fen snapped. “We have to move. If those bandits are around, they’ll hear that damned dog.”</p><p>She shook herself. “You’re right. Come on, Brownie.” She scooped up the little dog, yipping and wiggling in protest, and ran back down the trampled grass path to where the horses were waiting, Fen right behind her.</p><p>To both their relief, the horses were still there and they were alone. No one had heard them, or if they had, they hadn’t found them yet.</p><p>Once mounted, Fen said, “I’m heading straight for the road. We won’t be ambushed there. We need to move fast and get past Daur.” Pack of dirt-eating sods, he thought. If he ever had a say in the running of HighTower, the quad, or the ninesquare, he would insist on regular patrols throughout his territory. Abandoning travelers to outlaws was something Olde Earthe would do. He could not wrap his mind around any demesne in the Ennaretee allowing such desecrations near their territory, government corridor or not. At least slavers didn’t make it this far north. Winter kept them out.</p><p>He also did not want to tell Lannie what he suspected. Brownie’s owner or owners weren’t lying dead in the clearing. None of the bodies were female. Or young. Brownie was a woman’s lapdog and her owner, if she was alive, was now an outlaw band’s captive. If there were kids in the group, they were slaves with their mother.</p><hr/><p>They rode for hours, Fen threading through the traffic with Tabasco on the lead, Lannie close behind, clutching Brownie. He set the fastest, ground-covering pace he could without exhausting the horses. Now that they were in the Ennaretee, the traffic had thinned noticeably, allowing more room. Fen’s long braid of hair and beard became commonplace. No one noticed him anymore other than glances at the horses.</p><p>She got noticed. It seemed every man they passed with waist-length hair or longer stared openly at her braids. It was disconcerting and annoying. She’d have to ask, Lannie thought. There must be some custom or other that she didn’t know.</p><p>In the meantime, she concentrated on keeping up with Fen, clutching Brownie, and keeping an eye out for a waystation. She’d written her postcards in her mind, to mama and to Ulla. But to physically write them, she’d have to coax Fen into stopping and giving her the cards. They had already planned that she would not write home again until they reached HighTower, leaving Marvolo to lay a false trail.</p><p>But after seeing the bodies of those unfortunate travelers, ambushed and murdered, the need to reassure her own family was shoving aside considerations of anonymity.</p><p>Late afternoon was drawing to a close when a waystation finally rose on the horizon.</p><p>“Fen,” Lannie called. “I need postcards.”</p><p>He reined in Coppertail to speak to her.</p><p>“You know that will mean your mother and brother will know something’s up.”</p><p>“I know. But I keep seeing those bodies. They don’t know where we are. I can’t do this to my mother. I have to let her know I’m alive.” If she’s still alive. If Charlton got my postcard and saved her.</p><p>He heaved a sigh. “I understand. Those people.” He shook his head. “Their families will go to their graves not knowing what happened. It eats at you. I’ll send word to Pello of Kenyatta. I can trust him and he’ll know who to inform.”</p><p>“It’ll be a chance to get water and mil-rats,” Lannie said brightly.</p><p>“True.”</p><p>The waterskins rinsed and refilled, mil-rats signed for, the horses watered, Fen hunted up the last of his postcards.</p><p>“Damnation,” he swore. “We’ll have to stop again at a post office and get more. We’re out.” He handed her two postcards and took the last one for himself.</p><p>“Make them count.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. Mama would tell Charlton. Ulla would get the other postcard. She wrote swiftly, filling the back side of the postcard with tiny block printing. She was alive. She was safe. She missed them terribly. She hoped they still cared, that they remembered, that they forgave her for running away and stealing what she didn’t dare name for fear of who else would read her message.</p><p>She tossed the postcards into the mailbox along with Fen’s and they set out again, into the lowering sun and a safe campsite for the night. One that no one would want or find so they could sleep safely. One where they could talk safely.</p><p>And kiss again. She’d seen his bare chest frequently when he’d pranced on Marvolo’s stage and thanks to Brownie this morning, he’d seen a peek of hers.</p><hr/><p>“Fen?” Lannie asked. They were sitting by the tiny fire, shielded from the north by a rock outcropping. Fen had been pleased with both the shelter and the fact that no one could sneak up on them. He didn’t expect Brownie to warn them of danger any more than she had warned her previous owners.</p><p>“Yeah?” He gave Brownie a pet. The little dog didn’t wander off as he’d expected. She huddled next to the fire, wedged in-between him and Lannie. It had to be the mil-rat she was gnawing. Useless little thing. Her fur was less matted. Lannie was gradually working out the snarls with Coppertail’s comb and the dog let her, proving she expected regular grooming.</p><p>“Why did everyone stare at my hair?”</p><p>Fen opened his mouth, then shut it again.</p><p>“I’m remembering when I used your comb for the first time,” Lannie said. “You stared at me combing my hair and I got some of those same stares again today. But I didn’t further south. Lots of women had braids there but since we passed Fintney, I haven’t seen any woman with braided hair. I mean hair that’s allowed to hang down and isn’t tied up somehow.”</p><p>She looked at his expression.</p><p>“You know, don’t you.”</p><p>“Yeah,” he allowed. “I do.”</p><p>“Well?”</p><p>“I spent time in Barsoom and you do things different there.”</p><p>“You’re dodging the question.”</p><p>“I’m trying to explain without you thinking we’re savages.”</p><p>“I don’t think you’re a savage. A barbarian, but not a savage.” On impulse, she lifted one of her braids and waved it at him. He couldn’t stop the flicker of lust from crossing his face.</p><p>“Lannie, do not and I mean it, do that in public again,” Fen said sternly.</p><p>“What, wave my braids around?” She held up each braid and waved both ribboned ends at him. The blue ribbons swayed in the breeze.</p><p>“Yeah. That. In the Ennaretee, at least in my part and I’d guess here too, the only man who should know how long your hair is, is your lover.”</p><p>“What? That’s ridiculous. It’s just hair,” Lannie said indignantly.</p><p>“Not up here. Only your lover sees your hair down, being combed, running his fingers through it.” Fen leaned closer and ran his hand down her right braid from her ear to its ribbon ties. “Let me untie your braids and comb them out and I’ll show you what I mean.” His eyes were dark with lust.</p><p>She snatched her braid back from him. It was just hair. But so was his — long, thick, and heavy — and when he’d pranced on Marvolo’s little stage pretending to be a Wildside savage it had been exiting to watch him swing his hair, tossing it and bending over backwards enough to let it sweep the floor. The rest of the audience had thought so too. Remembering the actresses’ comments about Fen made her blush.</p><p>Did she want to go further? He waited, tense, watching her face intently. A feminine understanding surfaced. He wanted her, but he wouldn’t force her. The choice was hers.</p><p>She did want to go further.</p><p>Lannie leaned in closer, brushing her lips across his. He met her kiss, pushing forward, closer, and then his arms were around her. The fire was forgotten, the horses ignored, Brownie crouched next to them and might have been invisible. All was lost in the sensation of him kissing her.</p><p>She pulled free at last.</p><p>“Yes, comb out my hair.” She smiled at his open joy and excitement. “I’d like to comb out your braid too.”</p><p>“Yes,” he breathed and leaned in for another, deeper kiss.</p><hr/><p>In the morning, Fen combed out Lannie’s hair again, reveling in the feel of it sliding between his fingers. He rebraided it for her into numerous smaller braids, then showed her how to loop them up high, interweaving the individual plaits so the length wouldn’t show.</p><p>“I don’t know if this will work,” Lannie said dubiously. She touched the braids wrapped around her head, cunningly woven in place. They felt precarious. “I don’t have any hairpins. Or a mirror.” Or a lady’s maid but Fen was surprisingly skillful with hair. Of course, he must have had plenty of practice with his own and when she asked (hoping he wouldn’t talk about helping previous girlfriends with their hair) he agreed.</p><p>“It should hold for the day.” He smiled shyly. “I haven’t had anyone yet to comb out my hair for me, not after my mother stopped as I got older.”</p><p>More kisses followed and eventually, they were on their way. Fen was preoccupied as the horses trotted down the road, weaving in and out of the sparse traffic. His dreams had been incandescent with lust and he’d gotten up twice to take care of needs. He kept glancing at Lannie. Did she feel the same way? It seemed that she did.</p><p>Where would this lead to? He could hope. It was readily apparent how inexperienced Lannie was. He wasn’t quite as much, but at the same time, it would be so different with Lannie. She would be the first woman he had ever made love to whose name he knew. Even better, she knew his.</p><hr/><p>Iolanthe gently closed the book (she’d reached the end of chapter seventeen of <em>The Basics of Estate Management</em>, addressing preferred crop rotation schedules for equatorial regions) she had been reading aloud.</p><p>“You haven’t heard a word I’ve read,” she said.</p><p>“No,” Charlton admitted. “I keep thinking of Lannie, lost somewhere between here and, I guess, HighTower. Damn Zachery. I should go search for her. Jorge and Paco have things well in hand.”</p><p>She nuzzled into him from her position in his lap. “You know what Zachery would do to us and your estates.”</p><p>“Yeah.” He kissed her back.</p><p>“At least I can do this. I’ll go to Telduv, find out how much it will cost to rebuild the road between them and us, sell some pearls, and get started.”</p><p>Iolanthe smiled slowly. “That would help. We’d get mail faster, both coming and going, and it needs to be done anyway if you want to increase your yam sales in the future.”</p><p>“Yeah. But we won’t see Lannie skipping down the new road to us and home.”</p><p>“I know. We’ll find her.”</p><hr/><p>“You need to make a decision, Ulla,” Ottilie told her. “Lannie is gone. <em>You</em> still have a future. I cannot guarantee that Silas Avongale will wait around forever.”</p><p>“I know,” Ulla muttered. “I don’t know what’s stopping me. Marrying Silas is the sensible thing to do.”</p><p>“Yes, it is.” Ottilie glared at no one in particular. “You are causing me no end of trouble, shirking your duty as you are.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>Ottilie gave her a look that would have frozen fire. “I can tell.”</p><p>“I need to go home to DelFino Castle,” Ulla said. “Look over my things.” Delay some more, she thought, while I pray every day that something turns up about Lannie. Wherever she is, she didn’t go to Wickersham according to their daimyah.</p><p>“And plan your trousseau?” Ottilie purred. “I thought you’d already done that.”</p><p>Ulla stilled as the idea seized her. “I have, but that was before I met Silas. Avongale is pretty far north. Virtually everything I own is suited for the equator. I’ll freeze. I have to search my closets for suitable clothing and have the maids rework what I find since I don’t have any of my quarterlies left to spend on a new wardrobe.”</p><p>“Silas —” Ottilie began.</p><p>“I am not asking Silas to buy me an entire new wardrobe and I am not borrowing clothes again from his relatives. I am not Naomi, harassing Walter for fripperies while he’s trying to build an estate up from barren wilderness.”</p><p>“This is true.”</p><p>“And,” Ulla said brightly, “I can finish up those comprehensive tree plantation reports for Zachery while I’m working on my winter wardrobe. Iolanthe’s aunt Avery has been so helpful. I still haven’t finished digesting that last five hundred-page report she mailed me.”</p><p>“There is that much to say about tree plantations?” Ottilie said. She pursed her lips in bored distaste.</p><p>“Gleesh, yes,” Ulla replied. “If you want to be thorough and Avery Anand Orlov must be the most thorough woman on Mars. I’ve got weeks of work facing me.”</p><p>“Silas —” Ottilie said.</p><p>“— will be grateful for my research,” Ulla said firmly. “Avongale could use help with their forestry efforts. I saw what they claimed was a timber plantation when I visited — and shivered the entire trip — and it was sad. Not everything Avery is teaching me will translate to his region, but I’ll be well-grounded and ready to work when I marry into Avongale.”</p><p>“Very good, Ulla,” Ottilie said. “In addition to being somewhat cleverer than your mother, you’re more thoughtful as well.”</p><hr/><p>Nothing, Dimitri thought with fury. Nothing. Not one of the demesnes he’d visited between Wickersham and Shelleen admitted knowing anything about Yilanda’s whereabouts. Instead, along with wasting still more coin and time, suffering bad train trips and worse roads, he’d gotten sniggers about Rastislav chasing after a reluctant teenaged bride. They’d all heard the story and it got embellished along the way into a baroque melodrama.</p><p>He had to swallow every possible variation of there’s no fool like an old fool along with plenty of pointed comments about the foolishness of using primogeniture to choose daimyos instead of whatever more enlightened method his hosts were using.</p><p>It was humiliating when it wasn’t maddening.</p><p>The only saving grace was that no one seemed to realize that Yilanda had stolen the Pearls of Orlov. Yet.</p><hr/><p>Mr. Parminder reviewed the report that John RedHawk mailed him, studied again the most recent letter that Dimitri Orlov had sent, and steeled himself. He’d have to report in person to the Orlov townhouse and brief the daimyo, Rastislav, and his toady, Albion DelFino, that there was no sign of Miss Yilanda. She might as well have fallen off the face of Mars. Rastislav would become hysterically abusive and throw things. Albion would indulge in useless theatricals designed to draw attention to himself while not performing any useful function.</p><p>He laced his mid-morning cup of tea with a finger of scotch, slugged it down, and fetched his hat and staff. With every painful step from the door of his office across Barsoom to the Orlov townhouse, he wished he had never taken this case.</p><p> </p><hr/><p>“Nothing? Nothing at all?” Zachery demanded.</p><p>“No, my lord. I’ve had Miss Ulla followed. She makes the rounds of the prostitutes and checks in regularly at Parminder’s office. I’ve even — forgive me — searched her room in the townhouse. Nothing.” Zachery’s most trusted and private assistant waited tensely.</p><p>“And the news from Ranaglia? And Fintney?”</p><p>“Nothing. No one in Ranaglia will admit to seeing Miss Yilanda. The sheriff in the corridor was difficult to deal with. The Fintney police attempted to arrest my men. Internal Security refused to be bribed. I do not know if Orlov did better, but I doubt it.”</p><p>“Keep searching,” Zachery said. “And send in my son.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord. If I may be so bold, will you be revealing your plans to him?” the servant asked. “I would not wish to make a mistake with him or Evans.”</p><p>“No,” Zachery replied. “Walter has enough to manage with his new bride and settling the wilderness. Moreover, I do not believe he would fully agree with my plans for Miss Yilanda or the Pearls. And there is the possibility, remote I admit, that dear Naomi may be spying for Khan. I hope Walter has enough sense not to indulge in pillow talk but I won’t risk it.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><hr/><p>“A Wildside savage, you say?” John RedHawk asked. “Better than this one?” He was speaking with a peddler, the peddler’s arm slung protectively over his patient and overloaded donkey. The peddler was eager to talk and you never knew if something useful would turn up, even from a gladhanding peddler ogling the dancers at a ragtag roadside show.</p><p>They were watching a performance of Marvolo’s Marvelous Show in the late afternoon sun. Watching the show and talking to the peddler also allowed him to put off the dreadful moment when he’d have to retire to his bed for the night in the waystation. The entire building reeked, not just the stables. RedHawk was sure he’d leave in the morning with fleas, despite paying for the deluxe private cell as opposed to the free and filthy barracks that the typical traveler endured. He was, by his calculations, somewhere out in the middle of nowhere on the 40° Latitude Road between Fintney and Purnell.</p><p>“Oh yeah!” the peddler gushed. “I love traveling shows and Marvolo’s is one of the better ones. I trade small goods up from Barsoom and out into the hinterlands. Since Shelleen opened up his Red Mercury lode, business has been booming along this corridor. Marvolo moves slow, so I can visit villages in the demesnes as well as make sales along the road in the free-cities and still keep up with them. They had the best Wildside savage from north of Eljinn right up until they reached Fintney. Kind of scrawny, but enthusiastic. A real crowd pleaser, not like this hack. And that lad’s hair was <em>real</em>, not a wig, not swinging it around like he was. It hung down to his ass. He even grew out a scruffy beard. He wanted to give his all for his art, I guess.”</p><p>“That’s fascinating,” RedHawk said. “Could you tell me more? Oh, I need to purchase one of your wool scarves. It’s colder up here than I’m used to. And one of those strings of beads for a young lady I know.”</p><p>The peddler beamed.</p><p>“You bet. No idea where that kid went, but he could have a career in show business, let me tell you. Not many actors are willing to strip down to not much more than a smile and prance around on a stage. Everyone stares.”</p><p>“I’m sure they do,” John RedHawk said. “I’m a bit of theater buff myself. Marvolo is new to me and I can see that I’ve been missing out on some great performances.”</p><p>“I’ll introduce you around,” the peddler said enthusiastically. “Marvolo loves meeting new fans and his troupe will be thrilled.”</p><p>“I would appreciate that,” RedHawk told him with an equally enthusiastic smile.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. You were used for stud service.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Taking their half of the road out of the middle was, as Pello and Helion said, always the fastest choice. Except, Fen reflected, it was also the most visible. Even with Lannie’s hair twisted up so its length didn’t show, they got stares. Maybe it was Brownie, wiggling in Lannie’s arms and yipping at the other traffic. No one else rode while carrying a lapdog.</p><p>The urge to get home to HighTower was increasing. Dawud’s counsel about how much he was needed nagged at him. He would have been home weeks ago, if he hadn’t met Lannie. Bringing her home, along with the Pearls of Orlov, would change HighTower even more. The repercussions would echo across his demesne, his quad, his ninesquare, even this side of the Ennaretee for generations. If she agreed, the Pearls would become the Pearls of HighTower, even if no one could know. They’d have to remain secret.</p><p>The counsel of the stars was gradually becoming clearer. Soon, he’d be able to tell her what he thought they wanted. He was getting to know her better and she might agree.</p><p>Speed was becoming more important than anonymity. Good thing she was becoming a better rider and they had three horses. Each stop for the night took longer; he looked for a campsite earlier and they took longer to get moving in the morning. He couldn’t blame Brownie.</p><p>The dog didn’t waste time kissing.</p><hr/><p>Lannie ran her hands over Fen’s chest, working her fingers through his silky wisps of chest hair. It was so exciting. She loved the feel of his own hands, stroking her breasts. Every night and every morning, they went a little further, exploring each other’s bodies.</p><p>Rastislav would have never been like this. Or Walter. Or anyone, really. Only Fen, loving and caring and capable and so hot and sexy.</p><p>She wanted more. Did she want to delay and tease and wait longer? There was that final, irrevocable step. Yes. Tonight. Now. Every day she fell deeper in love with him and it was time to give him more. It felt <em>right</em> and not just because her hormones were driving her crazy with lust.</p><p>Lannie kissed Fen more deeply than ever, feeling his rigid cock against her tummy. She knew what it was now, knew he wanted her, knew what it felt like to stroke, how sensitive the tip was. She knew how good his fingers felt inside her. What would his cock feel like? She wanted to know.</p><p>“I’ve never done this before,” Lannie whispered to Fen, lying on top of her. She was still surprised at how pleasurable his weight on top of her was.</p><p>“I haven’t either,” Fen whispered back. “I mean I have, but I didn’t know who I was with and they didn’t know me and you do.”</p><p>“What?” Lannie said. She went rigid, all the pliancy of her body turning to stone. “I thought you said you didn’t have a girlfriend?”</p><p>She pulled away, stunned at how hurt she felt. “You’ve been lying to me?”</p><p>“No, I haven’t! I don’t have a girlfriend,” he protested.</p><p>“Then how have you been with someone else?” Lannie asked. She gasped. She knew. The women she’d met in the alley behind the cathedral months ago. They’d taken the flashy ballgown in exchange for silence and help.</p><p>“You’ve been with <em>prostitutes</em>? Like Winnie and Tevy?”</p><p>He pulled back, equally shocked. “No! Never! And how do you know Winnie and Tevy?”</p><p>“You know them? You <em>know</em> them! How could you know them?”</p><p>“Well, yeah, I know them, but not <em>that</em> way. They worked the alleys around Mr. Cardozo’s livery stable,” he shot back. “I talked to them but I never. I wouldn’t.”</p><p>“Then how do you know they’re prostitutes?” Lannie demanded. “They didn’t wear signs.”</p><p>“Um, they made it kind of plain,” Fen replied, remembering the embarrassment of discovering what women did for money in Barsoom. “They, um, took care of some of the other stablehands. And shopkeepers. And, um, other men in the neighborhood. They were nice girls but I didn’t. Partake.”</p><p>“You didn’t partake.”</p><p>“No, I didn’t. It’s not like I had the money. They don’t give it away. How do you know Winnie and Tevy?”</p><p>“I gave them the ballgown after I fled the cathedral.” She glared at him. “But you told me you’ve never had a girlfriend so if you haven’t been with prostitutes, then how could you have been with a woman?”</p><p>“Uh.”</p><p>“You better tell me right now or get off me and stick to your side of the fire from now on. I’ll stay with my dog. <em>She</em> doesn’t lie.”</p><p>“I am not lying. It’s complicated.”</p><p>“Then you should uncomplicate it.”</p><p>He groaned and shifted his weight to one side, freeing her. She sat up at once, clutching her coverall over her bare breasts. The night air had become suddenly chilly.</p><p>“You remember I said I didn’t want you to think we’re savages in the Ennaretee, yeah?”</p><p>Fen, she noticed, didn’t get chilly. He didn’t bother scrabbling for a blanket or his shirt, leaving his chest bare and distracting.</p><p>“Yeah. I remember.”</p><p>She went still, no longer distracted, remembering Charlton and Walter insulting each other in the stable months ago. She’d been hiding from Ulla in an empty stall. The stablehands had added their own insults as they saddled the horses for the day. She’d been so shocked by the vulgarity that as soon as they rode off into the fields and the coast was clear, she’d scurried back to Ulla. The propriety of a lecture about proper dusting techniques for crystal chandeliers followed by a demonstration was a welcome distraction.</p><p>“Oh Gods! Livestock!” She gagged.</p><p>“<em>What</em>? No!” Fen goggled at her. “How could you even think such a thing?”</p><p>“Sheep,” Lannie said and burst into hysterical giggles, waving her hands madly. “Baa! Sheep! Baa! Because it’s good for the wool?”</p><p>“You’ve gone insane.” He looked appalled. “Where on Mars did you hear such talk?”</p><p>“Charlton and Walter and the stablehands,” she confessed, swallowing revulsion and hysteria. “I overheard them talking one morning.”</p><p>“Well, I wouldn’t put anything past those two,” Fen said self-righteously. “I feel sorry for the sheep. But no. Never.”</p><p>“Then what? I’m going to live in the Ennaretee with <em>you</em>. The more I know beforehand, the fewer mistakes I’ll make!” Lannie snarled. “I listened to Ulla lecture for weeks about how to run DelFino Castle and then, at the same time, her telling me that Orlov Castle would be different and I’d have to adjust and the quicker I learned how things were done there, the easier it would be. I have to know!”</p><p>He sighed deeply. “You, and Ulla, are right. I don’t want you to think less of us. We’re poor and isolated and that causes more problems for us. Fertility problems.”</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“I don’t know how much you know about animal breeding.”</p><p>“Oh, my gods and all my ancestors,” Lannie snickered. “This does involve livestock.”</p><p>“Lannie, quit teasing,” Fen said patiently. “For example. A cow can be fertile with one bull but not another. It’s true of sheep, horses, dogs, all animals. It’s the same with people.”</p><p>Lannie opened her mouth and shut it again. “I think I might know where you’re going with this,” she allowed, remembering whispered conversations among adults.</p><p>“We got bad fertility problems in HighTower. We’re too inbred. You know those Olde Earthe bastards mucked up our genes. They wanted us to be strong, healthy slaves, well-adapted to Mars and so every baby born has to be perfect.”</p><p>“And if they’re not, the woman miscarries,” Lannie said. “Mama had many miscarriages. She cried and cried and when I was old enough to understand, I cried with her.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen said. “My mom was the same. But my parents were still able to have children together. There’s women in the villages who have no children. They can’t, not with their husbands. A different man might be able to give that woman and her husband a child. That man acts as Winter’s Surrogate. It’s all anonymous. It’s…” he swallowed, looking deeply uncomfortable. “It’s what we do at the Solstices and Equinoxes. A man gives of himself in the dark to a married woman whose face he never sees.”</p><p>She looked at him, her eyes huge in the firelight. “A woman has sex with a stranger in the dark? And her husband accepts this?”</p><p>“He has to, Lannie,” Fen told her earnestly. “If they want children and Winter doesn’t bless them directly, there is no other way. Nobody abandons babies in the Ennaretee like they do in Barsoom.”</p><p>“Nobody abandons babies in Barsoom,” she said.</p><p>“That’s not what I’ve been told.”</p><p>“It’s not true. Anyway, that must be hard for everyone.”</p><p>“Yeah. Worse, there are no guarantees. Winter doesn’t always bring children. Some women remain barren, no matter who their partner is.”</p><p>“And you did this?” she asked.</p><p>“During the last Winter Solstice. I was old enough. I went to Schluharchuk, a demesne north and east of us, and I …” his voice trailed away and then came back stronger. “Performed. Twelve nights. I’d never done this before and the women knew and they taught me what to do. All the young men of a ruling family do this but never in their home demesne. We go far away, to spread out the gene pool.” He looked away into the heart of the fire.</p><p>“I won’t deny I enjoyed myself but at the same time, it was strange. I don’t know who I was with. They didn’t know my name. It didn’t feel real.”</p><p>“I see,” Lannie said. “I can also see problems. What if, um, …”</p><p>“Winter’s Children are not allowed to marry each other,” Fen replied, answering the unstated question. “Every demesne in the Ennaretee has a Domina Madre. She keeps track of Winter’s Children. Families discourage marriages that might be too close. If there’s a question, the Domina Madre settles it.”</p><p>“Why do you keep saying Winter does this?” Lannie asked. “It sounds to me like people are doing the arranging and … performing.”</p><p>“You have to understand what Winter is to us. She’s a season, a major force in our lives, a goddess. We start preparing for Winter as soon as the snow melts. She has her moods. She is very powerful.”</p><p>“Huh. The other seasons don’t matter.”</p><p>Fen laughed. “Oh, they matter very much. Spring is capricious and fickle and warms up the world with a new sun and new life. Summer is heat and long days and short nights and golden fields. Autumn is bountiful and rich and the world shifts again towards longer nights and cold. Like Winter, they’re each beautiful in their own way. Winter, though, Winter will kill you without hesitation if you’re careless or stupid. She shows very little mercy. The other three are not so hard or so cold or so quick to kill.”</p><p>Lannie remained silent for long moments. Fen kept his mouth shut, watching her face as she thought over what he had revealed. Brownie had wiggled into her lap and she petted the dog, cuddling it to her breasts and he felt a surge of jealousy.</p><p>She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Will you ever find out?”</p><p>“In a roundabout way. If I was successful, I’ll get invitations from other demesnes. Not Schluharchuk. I won’t be invited back. Domina Madres write to each other and if Krangland or Satran or anyone else invite me, I’ll know. But any child resulting from my acting as Winter’s Surrogate will never be mine. That baby belongs to his mother and her husband, whoever they are. Not me, not ever. And that’s all I will know. That I fathered at least one son or daughter for someone else.”</p><p>“You were used for stud service,” she said softly.</p><p>“Yeah. And it has to be done.”</p><p>“Do your vassals do this?”</p><p>His thoughts flew back to his months-ago journey down the corridor with Dawud, Kavan, and their crew and stopping at Kenyatta.</p><p>“They do. It’s less formal than the Solstices but if a man from outside a demesne’s gene pool is available and willing, he’ll get asked. The Domina Madre will make arrangements and any woman who’s desperate for a child and at the right stage of her cycle will be his for the night. In the dark with no names and no faces.”</p><p>“I don’t think we do anything like that at home,” Lannie said. She bit her lip. “Or maybe we do but we don’t talk about it.”</p><p>“I think a lot of women choose this option if their man is sterile, even if they don’t admit it,” Fen said. “In the Ennaretee, we’re honest about it. We have to be. We’re not Olde Earthe. We can’t grow babies in vats.”</p><p>Lannie grimaced at the mental picture. “Yuck, I never thought of that but they probably do.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t put it past them, the abnormal bloodsucking bastards,” Fen said. He reached for her free hand, her other hand occupied stroking Brownie instead of him.</p><p>“Lannie, you are the only woman I’ve ever truly been with. I know you. I wake up and see your face and my heart leaps. I laugh with you during the day. You’re the last person I see at night and I see your face in my dreams. I know your name and you know mine. I love you and you are the only girl in the world for me.”</p><p>She pursed her lips at him, raising an eyebrow. “And if you get an invitation from some other demesne for the Solstice? What will you do?”</p><p>He smiled. “As a married man, I am allowed to decline as I’ll be saving my seed for you. If you’ll marry me.”</p><p>She smiled back at him. “And if I don’t?”</p><p>“I’ll wait for you.”</p><p>“Your family may not like me.”</p><p>“They will adore you, like I adore you,” Fen promised. “My mother will be thrilled with you.”</p><p>“I don’t have a dowry. Not one we can admit to.”</p><p>“You are your own dowry and I would love you without the Pearls. I’ve been falling in love with you since we met.” He leaned over to her and kissed her and she let him, leaning into his kiss.</p><p>She pulled away, startling him and he stared at her, baffled and heartsick.</p><p>She laughed suddenly, delightedly, and her face lit up. With sparkling eyes, Lannie said, “I thought of Ulla.”</p><p>“Madre Winter, why her?” Fen demanded. “Why now?”</p><p>“Because she’s the most practical person I know,” Lannie said. “Ulla would advise taking full advantage of your prior experience because it means you won’t fumble around in the dark with me.”</p><p>He laughed heartily and leaned in for another kiss, longer, deeper, and very soon thereafter, Brownie padded around to the other side of the fire, laid her nose on her paws, and settled in to wait.</p><hr/><p>The trip was successful. The Telduv jewelers had been happy to purchase two more pearls and Charlton made arrangements with contractors and stone suppliers to begin improving the road between Telduv and home. To his intense irritation, he learned that he’d have to spend some of his own coin to improve the section of the road within the government corridor, outside his own lands.</p><p>“I’ll put in a requisition to the Martian government about reimbursing you, my lord,” the government clerk told him. She was an older woman, thoroughly experienced in the local bureaucracy based on her collection of longevity of service pins.</p><p>“Any idea how long that will take?” Charlton asked. “Like within your lifetime?”</p><p>“Not mine,” the clerk deadpanned, “but possibly within yours. After you increase trade between your estates and Telduv enough to warrant spending the coin. Our taxpayers won’t pay for roads that benefit DelFino. Sir.”</p><p>“Right,” Charlton said. “DelFino will be settling the lands to the west of me. Will that make reimbursement coin show up faster?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Right. This will improve mail service between my people and Telduv.”</p><p>“That benefits the Martian Postal Service and not the free-city of Telduv. Ask them for money. Shave first so you look less like a street thug mugging them. Sir.”</p><p>“They’re next on my list.”</p><p>The clerk sniffed. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”</p><p>He leaned over the counter and smiled warmly at her. “I can’t charm them the way I charm you? I’ll bring flowers.”</p><p>This earned him a glimmer of a smile. “No. Sir.”</p><p>“Candied wintenberries?”</p><p>“Still no.”</p><hr/><p>The Postmaster of Telduv was even less optimistic about coin being made available, despite it improving the mails between the village and Telduv. Before leaving, Charlton stopped one more time to see if any new mail had been deposited in the village box since this morning.</p><p>There was a postcard from Lannie. He read it, read it again, and wanted to sink through the floor with shame and grief.</p><p>“My lord?” Harry asked, letting his concern show. He and Terrence had traveled to Telduv with Charlton, assisting wherever needed. They were both becoming valuable in running the estates.</p><p>“My sister wrote again,” he choked out.</p><p>“She is well, my lord?”</p><p>“She is.” And she doesn’t know if we, if <em>I</em> cared two snaps of my fingers over her. Oh Lannie, Charlton thought. Will you ever forgive me for what I had to do to you? Will I ever forgive myself? And where the hellation is this postmark from?</p><hr/><p>“Hmm,” Iolanthe said. She tagged the postmark’s location on the giant new map filling the wall in Charlton’s office. He’d ordered a wall-size map of the northern hemisphere weeks ago and like Lannie’s latest postcard, it had been waiting for him in the Telduv post office.</p><p>Together, they studied the widely dispersed pins indicating each postcard Lannie sent. The false trail, dense with pins, was clear. So was the conclusion based on the outlying pin.</p><p>“She’s going to HighTower with Fen,” Iolanthe deduced.</p><p>“Yeah,” Charlton said. “My sister and some savage.”</p><p>“A savage who is keeping her alive and safe. He must know about the Pearls by now. It would be impossible for him not to. They’ve been traveling together for weeks and you said that Lannie couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.”</p><p>“No. She can’t. He knows and he hasn’t murdered her.”</p><p>Charlton looked at the postcard again. “She doesn’t know we care. That we’ve been searching for her since she fled the cathedral. That we don’t care about the Pearls. She doesn’t even know that mama is alive.”</p><p>“We can fix that,” Iolanthe said. “She’ll learn as soon as she arrives in HighTower.”</p><p>“Do you want to tell Dimitri?”</p><p>“No. News from Orlov is very bad. Even if Lannie were to hand over the Pearls on the spot, my brother will murder her,” Iolanthe replied sadly. “She didn’t just steal the Pearls. They have proof she’s scattering them to the four winds. Papa hinted that a Pearl ring surfaced in Eljinn, along with the two Pearls in Weer. They believe she’s handed out other Pearls, because the ones you’re selling in Telduv have surfaced too.”</p><p>Charlton groaned. “I can’t stop selling Pearls because our people need the coin. Dimitri shouldn’t waste his time murdering my sister. He should murder the sot for being such a fool.”</p><p>“That letter waiting for me in Telduv from auntie Quintana? I read it while you, Jorge, and Harry were hanging the map. The only reason Dimitri hasn’t thrown the sot down the stairs multiple times is because papa and uncle Ljubo begged him not to. According to Quintana, he already took out his fury on the sot to the extent he’s allowed. He’s currently visiting each demesne on the 40° Latitude Road.”</p><p>“When he gets back to Barsoom will he beat the sot into submission again?”</p><p>“I hope so,” Iolanthe said. Her face could have been carved from jade. “Rastislav deserves every bit of the pain my brother inflicts on him for what he did to our mother, our baby brother, papa, and everyone in Orlov. Unfortunately, Quintana writes Dimitri is slowly losing control of himself. Papa won’t tell me everything but she does.”</p><p>“She’s Ljubo’s wife?”</p><p>“Yes. Quintana says Dimitri will murder Rastislav the minute he’s allowed. He’ll toss your father to Goryonov’s thugs. And he’ll take his rage out on Lannie if Fen HighTower can’t prevent it.”</p><p>“Gleesh,” Charlton said. “We’re stuck here.”</p><p>“We are,” Iolanthe turned to him with a brilliant smile. “But Ulla is not.”</p><p>He frowned at her. “Ulla is broke and Zachery won’t let her travel to HighTower.”</p><p>“Damnation. You’re right. I’ll write to Ulla and we’ll figure something out.”</p><hr/><p>“Miss Ulla!” Natha came running into the sewing room of DelFino Castle. Ulla, as she had promised Ottilie, was working with the sewing maids on a winter wardrobe. There were plenty of suitable fabrics, bought to be made into fashionable clothing for winter vacations in faraway places. It took time and she was in no hurry, fitting dressmaking sessions into her schedule when she couldn’t find something more important to do.</p><p>“Yes, Natha?” Ulla asked. She stood on a low pedestal, draped in striped wool flannel while a cluster of sewing maids fitted her.</p><p>“A postcard from Miss Lannie, a letter from Lady Iolanthe, and a letter from a Miss Evelyn Ozigbow of the Ennagzee.”</p><p>Ulla abandoned the dress she was trying on, snatched the letters, and ran for the privacy of her bedchamber with its newly installed comprehensive map of the northern hemisphere. She would update it at once. Natha followed her, taking unusual precautions.</p><p>“Natha? Why did you lock the door?” Ulla asked.</p><p>The maid looked uneasy. “It’s that postcard from Miss Lannie, Miss Ulla. The mail clerk for the castle told me it got misplaced and that’s why you didn’t see it a few days ago when you should have, based on the postmark.”</p><p>Ulla sat back at her desk as understanding washed over her. “Zachery got it first.”</p><p>“The clerk wouldn’t tell me but yes, I think so, Miss Ulla. The rumor mill says that the daimyo’s special and personal assistant has been gone a lot. His family is very worried but they won’t talk. Evans too, Walter’s errand-boy, has been in and out.”</p><p>“Yes,” Ulla said thoughtfully. “As I would expect.” She inspected the seals on the letters from Iolanthe and Evelyn Ozigbow. They looked untouched implying Zachery was not yet at the point of having his secretary steam open letters and reseal them. Who was Evelyn Ozigbow? The name was vaguely familiar. Another dead end, no doubt, but she was Ennagzee which meant she was getting closer to the Ennaretee and HighTower.</p><p>“Would you bring me some tea while I read and think?”</p><p>“Yes, Miss Ulla.”</p><hr/><p>Lannie’s postcard was heartbreaking. She had no idea that anyone cared about anything but those wretched Pearls. Ulla read it through twice, praying that Zachery, damn his eyes, had his own stone heart twist from reading it. She found the location of the waystation it had been mailed from, marked her map and stared. This postcard did not match the other ones that had been arriving frequently, all along the 40° Latitude Corridor.</p><p>Zachery would see the same thing she saw. That assistant of his was probably already making train reservations and hiring crews just as he had at Fintney and then failed spectacularly at catching Lannie. Her new correspondent at Ranaglia was a detail-oriented gossip who passed along rumors — credible and wild — over Lannie. Ranaglia and its quad demesnes were bubbling over with speculation, as was their free-city of Fintney. This time, Zachery’s assistant might succeed.</p><p>Iolanthe’s letter came next. Then Evelyn Ozigbow, from a demesne on the 40° Latitude Corridor. Ulla read both letters through twice and sat back to think.</p><p>Iolanthe thought Lannie was on her way to HighTower with Fen based on a similar postcard. Evelyn Ozigbow’s chatty letter confirmed it. Evelyn was not just interested in having a new penpal in the Hot Zone. She wanted closer connections and was willing to provide plenty of information to get them. She’d visited HighTower and met the family. Fen wasn’t just some low-level member of a cadet branch. He was the daimyo’s younger son. And he was bringing home a girlfriend named Lannie he’d met in Barsoom. Evelyn wrote page after disorganized page; bandits and horses and idiot family members (particularly an idiot named Ethan whom she wouldn’t marry if he were the last man on Mars) and Fen’s status all mixed up together. She was clear on one subject: the family didn’t know anything about Lannie’s background and assumed she was some street girl he’d picked up in the city.</p><p>She had to write to Iolanthe at once and update her. She had to leave for HighTower immediately afterwards and reassure Lannie when she arrived.</p><p>But how to get there. She had no money; every penny of her quarterlies and her savings long since spent on the search for Lannie. Zachery had been adamant. She was not permitted to leave without his approval.</p><p>Someone pounded on the door.</p><p>“Ulla!”</p><p>Caught, darn it. Ottilie had been dropping into the sewing rooms at random intervals, supervising her new wardrobe’s construction because she thought too much time was being wasted. One of the sewing maids must have tattled.</p><p>“Let her in, Natha,” Ulla said.</p><p>She sat quietly and demurely, pretending to listen while Ottilie ranted about shirking her duties and proper trousseaus for DelFino brides and how Silas Avongale wouldn’t wait around forever and there was no one else on the horizon and why was she wasting time? Her own thoughts swirled and she regretted again not having an imagination. Iolanthe would figure out some ruse.</p><p>“Well?” Ottilie demanded after she ran down. “Silas and the rest of Avongale deserve an answer.”</p><p>Ulla sat bolt upright. Silas was her answer. If he would agree. However, she knew what she needed to say to get him to agree. There were plenty of other reasons he’d agree as well because they would aid him in his long-term goals of making Avongale a major player in Ennagzee politics with himself as the daimyo, but those points were minor.</p><p>All she had to do was say yes. She thought of Yair — he stubbornly refused to leave her thoughts — and shoved the memories back down. He had his own life to lead and she’d never see him again. Silas was her future.</p><p>“You are correct, Ottilie,” Ulla said. “I’ve got to get my winter wardrobe finished at once. I’m leaving for Avongale as soon as we can make travel arrangements.”</p><p>“Garments can be shipped to you as they are completed,” Ottilie said, suddenly and openly suspicious. “Summer is coming on in the Ennagzee so you won’t need heavy wool clothing for some time.”</p><p>“I need them now. I froze when I was visiting Silas and traipsing all over Avongale and I don’t like freezing,” Ulla said stubbornly. “I want every maid sewing. Natha will help and as soon as I’m done here, so will I. I’ve got to write to Silas right away.”</p><p>As soon as the door closed, Ulla got out stationery and began writing a letter to Lannie, in care of the HighTower family. Lannie, Ulla thought. You think I discarded you. That I’m like your worthless father. What would you say if you knew how I was going to sell myself to save you? And I will rescue you. I will not fail. Not this time.</p><hr/><p>“A Wildside Savage in a traveling show,” Mr. Parminder said and laughed and laughed. “You are sure of this?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” RedHawk said. “I stuck with the show for a week, squiring around one of their character actresses, a Miss Blanche DaLion. She was most informative when we were inside her personal wagon. She wouldn’t name names but otherwise, she couldn’t shut up. My guess is she did not appreciate having to learn how to mend her costumes from a hoity-toity snip of a girl. To further fuel her resentment, the scrawny boy who was willing to parade around in a loincloth and who should have been honored to bed her, turned her down.”</p><p>Mr. Parminder smiled, one man of the world to another. “You’ve been the best agent I ever hired, John. Thorough, dogged, and willing to go the extra klick. I trust Blanche DeLion was tolerable?”</p><p>“All cats are gray in the dark and she was one wild cat,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“And now we know they’re headed to HighTower and someone in the show is laying a false trail.”</p><p>“Yes, sir, that’s my working assumption.”</p><p>“Excellent work, John. Orlov will be pleased.”</p><hr/><p>“HighTower!” Dimitri screamed. “Catch that bitch now! If she sets foot on that demesne, she is lost to us.”</p><p>“My lord,” RedHawk began.</p><p>“Shut. Up. And. Listen.” Dimitri snarled. He moved threateningly closer.</p><p>Behind him, Rastislav glowered, his wrist in a cast and held awkwardly against his bulky middle in a pearl-bedecked sling. Bruises, old and new, decorated his face. His body language implied that while Rastislav might still be the daimyo in name, he was no longer in charge. Dimitri was. Albion lurked in the corner, as anxious as Rastislav but physically undamaged.</p><p>“Find her. Bring her back. I will no longer accept failure from you or Parminder Investigations,” Dimitri growled.</p><p>Rastislav edged forward cautiously, warily, glancing at Dimitri as he did so. He was a paunchy, raddled ghost of his former blustering self. He moved stiffly and painfully as though he’d been recently beaten.</p><p>“Listen to my nephew,” he hissed. “I want Yilanda in front of me on her <em>knees</em>. If you fail, Orlov will destroy you.”</p><p>RedHawk forced the blandest of expressions on his face, made even more difficult by watching Albion DelFino nod in eager agreement to the kidnapping and debasement of his runaway daughter.</p><p>“Yes, my lord Rastislav, my lord Dimitri.” RedHawk paused and added “You have told us every pertinent detail?”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.”</p><hr/><p>“What the hellation did our Fen do?” Borden asked his wife, Paroo. “Zachery, daimyo of DelFino wants to open communications about possible business deals. Orlov wants the same.”</p><p>She paced nervously back and forth. “I’ve gotten more letters from Ottilie DelFino and Gladys Orlov. They want to visit and evaluate our sons and daughters.”</p><p>“Zachery said he’d send an emissary. So did Orlov. They’ll be arriving in Robinsin soon.”</p><p>“Will you let them enter the demesne?” Paroo asked.</p><p>“No,” Borden said. “Zachery despises the Ennaretee. Rastislav is a drunken lunatic. Even if Fen hadn’t asked me to keep them out, I would because of how those goat-fuckers treated me when I was in Barsoom at the Conclave. Whatever they want won’t be good for us. I’ll send pigeons to everyone in the quad and our nine-square asking they do the same. I won’t allow those women in either.”</p><p>He set the letter down and met his wife by the window overlooking the stone plaza in front of the manor house. It was currently empty, no visitors from faraway places escorting horses that used to belong to notorious outlaws.</p><p>“What did our Fen do?” Borden asked again. “And a girlfriend? She’ll be some street girl without a dowry and you know how much we need coin.”</p><p>“I’m going to trust Fen,” Paroo replied. “We’ll manage. We always do.”</p><hr/><p>Marvolo counted the day’s take with satisfaction. The 40° Latitude Road crowds were eager to spend money on entertainment. He’d have to come this way regularly. The prosperity generated by Shelleen’s Red Mercury Lode was spreading up and down the corridor. His newest play, using Reg and Killem as named villains, slaughtered by a chipper and lucky teenager, was getting a good response. It more than made up for the lack of a good Wildside Savage. His current replacement wasn’t nearly as good as Fen HighTower had been. That lad had poured heart and soul into his role once he’d gotten over being stared at by an audience. He’d been quite a dancer too. Very popular with the ladies.</p><p>He paused and patted the pocket over his heart where the eight Pearls of Orlov nestled. It would be heartbreaking to part with them in Makkafree but necessary. He’d sell them one at a time and make the money last.</p><p>Hmm. Lannie and Fen had a great story. It would make a great play.</p><p>A damsel in distress, fleeing an evil daimyo with lascivious designs upon her virginal body. Stealing a priceless treasure born from the mysterious oceans of Olde Earthe. Being rescued from notorious outlaws by a handsome, nearly naked stranger. This could be the play that would let him break free from the traveling show circuit, a play that would earn him and his troupe a chance at one of the Barsoom theaters. It had everything; romance, derring-do, dysfunctional risto families, and bloody bodies heaped on the stage. He’d add sword fights because they were such a crowd pleaser. Now that Reg and Killem were safely dead, he could safely impale them through their black rotted hearts every afternoon and twice on Sundays.</p><p>All he had to do was change the names.</p><p>After all, that businessman from Barsoom had stuck with the show for an entire week and watched every play and entertainment the troupe performed. He’d chatted up the actors too, even going to the point of squiring around Blanche DaLion who’d been causing trouble over Lannie and Fen. That businessman, what was his name? John RedHawk, that was it. He loved the shows and said so. He might know the right person in Barsoom to talk to, assuming Marvolo could find RedHawk again. He hadn’t left a business card but Blanche would know more. She never let a man get away without him giving her something tangible first.</p><p>Marvolo stared off into space, seeing his name in lights on a marquee in Barsoom. Glittering white lights, gleaming even more beautifully than the stars in the sky or the Pearls of Orlov.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. You’d think we’re planning to raid the town and rob the bank and post office.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“We’re gonna have to get an earlier start tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Lannie snuggled up closer to Fen. She ran her hands across his bare chest, stroking and tickling. It was a new and fascinating hobby that they both enjoyed. “Must we?”</p><p>“We must.”</p><p>“Then you should stop pouncing on me.”</p><p>“You pounced on me when the sun woke us up.”</p><p>“Because you pounced on me first last night.”</p><p>Brownie, who’d been waiting patiently, her nose on her paws, suddenly sat up and began yipping madly.</p><p>Fen leapt to his feet. “Time to go,” he said as he yanked on pants and ran for the horses.</p><p>“On it.” Lannie scrambled for her coverall, and began breaking down the camp, working hard to remove every trace so the casual observer would not know they had slept there. Or done anything else.</p><p>They were soon back on the road, just south of Darnay, never spotting what upset Brownie. The dog remained anxious and yippy and didn’t settle down for some time.</p><p>As they rode along, Fen eyed Brownie, safe in Lannie’s arms. The dog eyed him back. Well, he thought. It’s an ill wind that blows no good. Whatever upset the dog got them moving quickly. It made him uneasy, though. Brownie was a yappy, irritating dog prone to barking every time a breeze kissed the grass but she’d been different this morning. Afraid.</p><p>He told Lannie his suspicions and to his dismay, she agreed.</p><p>“I think so too,” she said. “Brownie wasn’t happy. Were you, baby?” She petted the dog and made kissy noises. Brownie looked smug.</p><p>She turned her attention back to Fen. “Could it be those outlaws who massacred Brownie’s previous owners?”</p><p>“I don’t know. We’re well past Daur now so we should be out of their territory. I don’t know much about Winchester, except Darnay is their quad city. Lynch, due north of them, I do know. One of my aunts is from Lynch. They patrol regularly.”</p><p>“Will we stop in Darnay?” Lannie asked. “You said we’d get postcards and the last waystation keeper said that was the closest post office.”</p><p>He hemmed and hawed. “We have to but I don’t want to. A post office next to a waystation is easy, in and out quick and if you’re out of sight behind a rise with the horses, no one sees you or connects us. A post office in the central square in the middle of town means all eyes on us.”</p><p>“We’ll blend right in,” Lannie said confidently. “My hair is up and your hair is down.”</p><p>“You’re also wearing a coverall which no Ennaretee woman would do and then there’s that lapdog.”</p><p>Brownie heard him, gave him another smug look from the circle of Lannie’s arms, and yipped happily.</p><p>“She’s a sweetheart.”</p><p>“She’s not an Ennaretee dog. Our puppies are bigger than her.”</p><p>“She behaves nicely. She knows her new name. She comes when called and she did warn us about that nest of vipers. Besides, Tabasco likes her.”</p><p>“That’s true and amazing, since Tabasco doesn’t tolerate foolishness,” Fen conceded. He gave the mare a fond pat. She still didn’t like Lannie riding her, which was why Lannie rotated between Coppertail and Handsome while he used all three horses. Today was Coppertail’s turn to carry the baggage. The liver gelding accepted Lannie but, unlike Handsome, he had reservations about the dog.</p><p>“Brownie needs to quit barking at shadows. Then when she barks, I would know to pay attention.”</p><p>“She does try,” Lannie said.</p><p>Fen gave the dog another dubious look. “I suppose. She could savage someone’s ankles.”</p><p>“She can reach someone’s calves and you know it.”</p><p>Fen laughed, the day once again brighter and sunnier. “True enough. We’ll stop in Darnay at the post office. We need to do it anyway. I got to warn my dad again. Theo too, since he can give us sanctuary.”</p><p>“VanDenRooz?” Lannie asked, recalling Fen’s careful maps drawn in the dirt showing how much land they still had to travel across.</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen replied. “Theo’s my best friend in the world. We fostered together at Aguillero. He went to Schluharchuk with me for Winter Solstice.”</p><p>“Did he think it was strange?”</p><p>“Not Theo. He was as happy as a ram in the spring and said I was overthinking it like always. He’ll like you.”</p><p>“Will you tell him about the Pearls?”</p><p>“No. Or at any rate, not soon. We got to talk to the GroveMaster first.”</p><p>Fen stared out at the road ahead. “I’m gonna ask Theo to have VanDenRooz’s GroveMaster waiting for me. So we don’t have to wait any longer than we have to.”</p><p>“Oh. Won’t that GroveMaster tell the daimyo of VanDenRooz?”</p><p>“No. GroveMasters swear their allegiance to our Gods, the unseen world, and to the steppes. They’re loyal to the demesne, they have to be, but they don’t reveal confidences. They’d be forsworn. Lose their power. A disloyal or unfaithful GroveMaster doesn’t live long. Winter shows them no mercy.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. Gleesh, but this would be a strange new world, she thought. She smiled brightly. “I’ll write to Charlton and mama again.” Her smile faded. “I hope Charlton was able to save her.”</p><p>He reached over to stroke her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sure she is fine, Lannie. And when we get home, you can write a real letter and tell her all your adventures.”</p><hr/><p>Darnay was a larger free-city, as befitting its location at the intersection of the Pole-To-Pole Road and the 50° Latitude Road. Large was a relative term. It was smaller than Fintney and didn’t come near to the size of Eljinn. As was usual, the free-city was bordered by the two Roads, keeping transients out of the center of town. In this case, Darnay lay directly to the east of the Pole-To-Pole Road and due south of the 50° Latitude Road. It would be easy, logical, and expected to skirt its southeast boundary, avoiding it altogether, and eventually leave the steppes and reenter the 50° Latitude Road. After that, HighTower was directly due east although it would still take weeks of travel to get there.</p><p>“Darnay doesn’t look much bigger than Merreth,” Lannie said from her vantage point atop Handsome.</p><p>She and Fen were stationed just below the crest of a convenient hill alongside the Pole-To-Pole Road, giving them a good view of the free-city. Fen had spent some time picking the spot, a spot that would provide a good view of Darnay’s layout without them being seen from the Road.</p><p>The morning was clear and sunny, and they had an excellent view of what lay before them. Fen had deliberately delayed the previous day, giving them as much daylight as possible when they would need it more. He spared a glance at Brownie. Thanks to her nervousness, they’d broken camp faster than usual.</p><p>The free-city’s center was a cluster of three and four-story sandstone buildings, but it was difficult to tell how large the central square was. The trees were leafing out, concealing the buildings and their signs still more. The buildings huddled around the central district were smaller, with heavily thatched roofs. They had the look of cottages and tiny businesses. The post office wouldn’t be on the outskirts. As an important government function, it would be front and center, along with city hall, the regional courthouse, the bank, and the sheriff’s office. Any general stores or shops would be close by too, adding extra eyes. The train station filled the northwest corner of Darnay, convenient to both sets of rail-lines. They could not flee in that direction.</p><p>“I know. It’ll be hard to hide,” Fen said. “Sure you don’t want to wait here?”</p><p>“Positive,” Lannie replied. She glanced down at Brownie, quiet but nervous. “We never did find out who murdered Brownie’s previous owners and they might find me like Reg and Killem did. You won’t be close by like you were then.”</p><p>“This is true,” Fen said. “However, that little free-city could be dangerous too.”</p><p>“Even if Orlov and DelFino are waiting for us at the post office with the sheriff, Internal Security, and private armies, they won’t rape and murder me,” Lannie said. “Outlaws will. Besides, Orlov and DelFino wouldn’t stoop to working with Internal Security or some local sheriff. I know something about how Zachery thinks and he thinks that he doesn’t need to cooperate with some yokel of a sheriff. I doubt Orlov would be any more reasonable.”</p><p>“I hope you’re right,” Fen said. “We work with the sheriff in Robinsin on a regular basis. I’m guessing that Lynch and Winchester work with Darnay’s sheriff the same way. You know the plan, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. You buy the postcards while I wait, we’ll write fast, throw them into the mailbox, and get out of town faster.”</p><p><a id="_Hlk66535242" name="_Hlk66535242"></a>Fen chuckled. “You’d think we’re planning to raid the town and rob the bank and post office.”</p><p>Lannie turned to look at him. “Does that happen up in the Ennaretee?”</p><p>“Not in <em>my</em> quad,” Fen said. “But this isn’t my quad. Ready?”</p><p>She gave him a brilliant smile.</p><p>“You bet. It’ll be boringly safe.”</p><p>“I hope so,” he told her.</p><hr/><p>“That’s her.” Hikaru Jones put down his prized field glasses (stolen from an unlucky traveler) and smirked at his brother. “Looks just like her wanted poster. He’s money too, but not as much. This will be easy.”</p><p>“I dunno,” Bryant Jones answered. “We haven’t had much luck lately.” He yawned hugely and winced. “Pass me them lenses so I can see too.”</p><p>“No. And we are lucky,” Hikaru said confidently. “Who knew we’d get lucky and spot them on the opposite hill? And don’t forget we ambushed that group of travelers a few weeks ago, robbed them, and sold the women and kids to the slavers.”</p><p>“Who we now owe even more money to because we screwed up that job.”</p><p>“What were we supposed to do, Bryant? That damned rat dog woke them up, they fought back and so we killed the men. We could hardly turn over corpses and if we hadn’t killed everyone who could fight back, we’d be dead ourselves.”</p><p>“<em>He</em> didn’t like it.” Bryant rubbed his ribs and yawned again, this time more carefully. They still hurt from the beating. “I don’t like working for that slaver or his crew and I really don’t like working inside the Ennaretee. You know what those Steppes Riders do to outlaws they catch.”</p><p>“They haven’t caught us yet which tells me that their reputation doesn’t match reality. Quit worrying, little brother. We’ll catch her, turn her over to Orlov for piles of coin, turn him in for his reward, and then we’ll head back to Westernmost. We’ll have enough money for years.”</p><p>“Months, the way you’ll drink it down.”</p><p>“I’ll quit. You check them with the field glasses,” Hikaru said in a placating voice. “We won’t see those slavers ever again,” he added encouragingly.</p><p>Bryant took the field glasses, adjusted them and looked through at the opposite hill.</p><p>“We’ll end up in shackles ourselves if <em>he</em> thinks we cheated him. Which he will if we don’t pay him back,” he said sourly. “He will find us.” He gasped when he got the focus adjusted. “Look at them! You didn’t notice? You sheep-fucking idiot! She’s carrying that damned yappy rat dog that tried to bite me.”</p><p>“Luckily, you wear boots,” Hikaru said dismissively. “The rat dog couldn’t reach past your calves.”</p><p>“The rat dog can bark. Remember?”</p><p>“I remember. We’ll eat the dog, after we catch Yilanda DelFino and that Fen character. Make a nice change from mil-rats.”</p><p>“He’s a Steppes Rider. Look at that braid and that scruffy beard. Got beads in his hair,” Bryant pointed out morosely.</p><p>“He’s still a scrawny teenager. We’ll be fine.” Hikaru held up his hands in mock surrender. “But to make you happy, we’ll surprise them.”</p><p>“In Darnay’s town square where it looks like they’re headed? In front of the sheriff’s office? That’ll surprise them more than ambushing them in the steppes but then everyone in town will come running, starting with the sheriff.”</p><p>“Leaving Darnay, little brother, at the east end heading towards HighTower. They have to go that way for him to get home.”</p><p>Bryant rolled his eyes and passed the field glasses back to his brother’s clutching hands. “A town full of witnesses <em>and</em> the steppes where his kind expect to be ambushed.” He groaned. “Let’s get this over with. The only thing going for us is that he’s a scrawny teenager and she’s a runaway risto so neither of them can fight their way out of a paper bag.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit,” Hikaru said. “We’ll get three great horses out of the deal to replace these nags, plus whatever they got in those saddlebags. Even a choice of new boots for you to replace the ones the dog gnawed on. We’ll be able to throw some money to those slavers and that will give us time to disappear into Westernmost and enjoy that huge reward.”</p><p>Hikaru stopped and grinned widely. “Nothing on those wanted posters said we can’t enjoy ourselves with the risto girl before we turn her in. This will be great.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Bryant told his brother.</p><hr/><p>As they rode into Darnay, Fen felt like he had a target painted not just on his back, but on his face and sides as well as all over the horses. He and Lannie got glances but no one they passed said or did anything. They were studiously ignored.</p><p>But those sidelong glances and evaluating looks were unnerving. It felt like someone, somewhere, had made plans which was what he expected Orlov and DelFino to do. Those demesnes would be throwing their weight and their money around. Darnay was a free-city in a government corridor, inhabited by homesteaders and small business owners, all of whom needed money and didn’t need Hot Zone risto pressure. While it was surrounded by Ennaretee, it didn’t belong to the Ennaretee. It was nothing like Robinsin, tiny and isolated and very much entwined with the demesnes surrounding it.</p><p>Too much traffic from Barsoom to Northernmost was the most likely culprit. All those city folks changed how the residents of Darnay thought and worked. He kept looking around but he didn’t see any vassals belonging to one of the demesnes in the streets. He had been hoping to see some of Lynch’s people and claim relationship status because of his aunt, but no. No one.</p><p>“This is creepy,” Lannie said in a low voice. “We’re being stared at. Like every single person in town knows that Orlov will pay a huge reward for me. They should be running towards us with nets and clubs.”</p><p>“I know. But they aren’t doing anything and we’ll be fast,” Fen said. “There’s the post office. I want you to wait right out front with the horses and Brownie. That way, we can leave quicker. And if anyone’s looking to catch you for the reward, they’ll be less likely to go after you in broad daylight in the middle of the square.”</p><p>“Got it,” Lannie said.</p><p>She waited anxiously in front of the post office with the horses, astride Handsome and ready to flee. Brownie felt her nervousness and twitched and yipped, drawing more sidelong glances. To her intense relief, Fen was back in minutes with a sheaf of stamped postcards.</p><p>She hastily took two and jotted quick notes to her mother and to Ulla, hoping that they cared that she was still alive. Fen wrote two and ducked back into the post office to mail them.</p><p>When he returned, he said, “Done. If the clerks honor their oath, our mail will go out.”</p><p>“They should,” Lannie said with a confidence she did not feel. “Jennet Quispe was adamant about postal regulations back in Merreth.”</p><p>“Time to go,” Fen said and they turned south, back the way they came, with the morning sun on their right.</p><p>They got out of town as quickly as they’d entered it and merged back onto the Pole-To-Pole Road, headed north. Foot and wagon traffic was getting sparse, compared to the previous weeks. Railway traffic was less as well. As soon as an opening presented itself, they crossed the multiple lines of railways, the southbound lane and vanished into the steppes again.</p><p>“Easy,” Lannie said when they’d crossed over a low line of hills and could no longer see the Road.</p><p>“Surprisingly so,” Fen wondered. “I can’t figure out why, but I won’t argue with my luck. We’ll circle around Darnay to the north and parallel the 50° Road for a while. After a few days, we’ll rejoin the road and make better time. Good thing we’ve got a few weeks of mil-rats.”</p><p>“What about water?” Lannie asked uneasily. “I’ll need daily washing water soon enough.”</p><p>“Again?”</p><p>“Yes. Again.” She glared at him. “That means waystations again.”</p><p>“We’ll be fine,” he said confidently. “I know Lynch sign. They’ll have wells and dewponds and I can find them.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Lannie told him.</p><p>“And if not,” Fen reassured her, “we’ll still be well away from Darnay. I know I’m being extra-cautious about Orlov and DelFino. They can’t know that you’re coming home with me so we should be perfectly safe on the 50° Road but I like zagging when I’m supposed to zig.”</p><p>The lands sweeping around the west and north of Darnay were not empty steppes. Homesteaders’ cottages and cultivated fields cropped up here and there, never straying far from either of the two roads or from the free-city. They demonstrated that Darnay was growing fast, but not all of its citizens wanted to remain close by, under the watchful eye of the Martian government.</p><p>“This will take forever,” Lannie grumbled as they skirted what Fen claimed was yet another tiny farm. She saw fields, animals, and people working in the fields, all comfortably far away. “Why are they farming in the middle of nowhere? I don’t see their house. Do they live in a tent?”</p><p>“That’s their house,” Fen said, pointing at a grassy rectangular outgrowth on a hill in the middle distance.</p><p>“That is a funny-shaped hill.”</p><p>“It’s a soddy. See the door? Got a chimney too.”</p><p>Lannie blinked, then focused. “That dirty rectangle is a — door?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>The door opened and an aproned woman came out, carrying a bucket. Just like in the village at home on their estates in DelFino, she tossed the contents of the bucket onto the suspiciously even rows of plants nearby.</p><p>Lannie closed her mouth with a snap. “They live in the <em>dirt</em>?”</p><p>“Shh. Wind carries sound. A soddy is built into the hillside. They can be damp and dark, but they’re cheap and they work. Built out of squares of sod.”</p><p>“Please tell me that we won’t live in a soddy,” Lannie said.</p><p>“We won’t,” Fen replied proudly. “None of <em>our</em> vassals live in soddies. We build real cottages out of cob and we keep them in good repair. HighTower may be poor but we got standards. We take care of our people.”</p><p>“And us?”</p><p>He grinned at her. “Stone manor house. Didn’t I mention that? It’s a big place. We’ll be sharing with the rest of the family, of course.”</p><p>“Like DelFino Castle,” Lannie said. At last, something familiar.</p><p>“I’ll admit stone can be cold, but I’ll keep you warm.”</p><p>She laughed. “It can’t possibly be as cold as sleeping on the ground in the rain. Besides, I was ready to live in Northernmost and that’s got to be colder than HighTower.”</p><p>Fen chose not to disillusion her. Northernmost was inside domes and partially underground. It had to be warmer than HighTower simply because no one there ever went outside. In HighTower, no matter what season of the year, you had to go outside to work.</p><p>He glanced at the sun and its shadows. “Time to change direction. We should be crossing the Pole-To-Pole Road soon.”</p><p>“And then return to the 50°?”</p><p>“No, I think we’ll keep heading directly east. Keep well away from the 50° Road for several days and stay closer to Lynch.”</p><p>He looked over at Brownie, happily staring all around. Her nose was quivering with excitement. He said a little prayer of thanks. The dog was fascinated by the new smells but she wasn’t yapping and attracting attention. Whatever had upset her in the morning was long gone. Whoever was waiting for them in Darnay — Orlov and DelFino who he expected based on the presence of more wanted posters inside the post office or some enterprising bounty hunter — could keep right on waiting on the eastern end of the free-city.</p><p>They had to travel east to get to HighTower but why use the road when they could vanish into the steppes?</p><hr/><p>“You are positive that your fugitives are heading to HighTower?” the sheriff of Darnay asked.</p><p>“Yes, I am,” RedHawk answered patiently. “Where else would he go but back home to family?”</p><p>The sheriff discreetly rolled his eyes as did his small posse of deputies. RedHawk was paying them damned good coin to watch the 50° Latitude Road east of Darnay and Winter knew he needed the coin. The private investigator (so his business card claimed) was a fool from Barsoom, but his money wasn’t foolish. RedHawk also had the advantage of being willing to work within the confines of the law.</p><p>That other pack of fools, claiming to be representatives of the daimyo of DelFino, were currently resting comfortably, if crowded, in his three cells. Come into his town, demand he kowtow to some daimyo he had never heard of, and chase after a member of HighTower and his girlfriend? Not likely. HighTower was a long, long way away but Lynch, closely related to HighTower, was not. As sheriff, he had to cooperate with the four demesnes surrounding the free-city of Darnay.</p><p>He would not cooperate with Equator trash any more than he had too. The sheriff nodded discreetly to his counterpart, Lt. Smythe. RedHawk had also been courteous enough to work with the local branch of Internal Security. He’d even brought letters of introduction from higher-ups in Internal Security. Whoever Orlov was, they had firepower and so could not be safely ignored.</p><p>RedHawk rose awkwardly in the stirrups, yanking on the reins and visibly annoying his horse. He stared across the multiple railways and into the 50° Latitude Road.</p><p>The sheriff and Lt. Smythe exchanged eyerolls again. It was painfully obvious that although John RedHawk knew the rudiments of riding, he was much better equipped to ride on trains. He’d been shocked that the 50° Latitude Road was nowhere near as wide or as well-traveled as its 40° Latitude counterpart. Parochial city boy that he was, he’d been expecting that every government corridor on Mars was as built-up as the Pole-To-Pole Road and the Equator Road and be equally busy.</p><p>“Who the hellation are they?” RedHawk demanded. He pointed across the railways at a pair of scruffy men in filthy buckskins with one hand, the reins clutched tightly in his other hand. The two men had sauntered out of Wetherhold’s apple orchard where they had apparently been hiding. One of them spat out what he’d been chewing onto the 50° Latitude Road.</p><p>“Dunno,” the sheriff said. “Eating Wetherhold’s early green crabapples from the looks of it. He’ll be sick as a dog if he eats more than one.”</p><p>Lt. Smythe laughed quietly. “Better than the alternative. If Wetherhold spots them, he’ll force them to work his fields until they pay off any damages. And Wetherhold will find damages. I’m betting their horses are in the apple orchard right now, chowing down and damaging the trees.”</p><p>“True enough,” the sheriff asked. He rooted around in his saddlebag and fished out a pair of weathered field glasses that did not look like they’d been made on Mars. He sighted in and chuckled with open glee. “More money and right in front of us.”</p><p>“What?” RedHawk asked. “Do you know them?”</p><p>“Take a look,” the sheriff said and handed the field glasses not to RedHawk but to Lt. Smythe.</p><p>RedHawk glared at him.</p><p>“Sorry, Mr. RedHawk,” the sheriff said although his tone indicated he wasn’t sorry at all. “You’re having enough trouble managing Bluebell. I’m not letting you near my field glasses. I can’t replace them if you break them. My great-great-great-grandfather brought them with him from Olde Earthe and they are a family heirloom.”</p><p>“I see,” RedHawk replied and studied how Lt. Smythe was holding the field glasses like they were made of the finest crystal. It appeared to be true. The sheriff wouldn’t let anyone he didn’t trust touch those field glasses. They were irreplaceable, made from one of those strange glossy Olde Earthe materials that mimicked horn but lasted forever. Mars-made field glasses would be unaffordable for a small-town sheriff.</p><p>“You’re right,” Lt. Smythe said after taking a good look. He carefully handed the field glasses back to the sheriff. “It’s Hikaru and Bryant Jones. Last I heard, they were waylaying travelers outside of Daur. Good reward on them. Hikaru must be drinking again or they wouldn’t be so obvious. Standing out in the middle of the road like a couple of fools.”</p><p>“Could they be looking for Miss DelFino?” RedHawk asked, suddenly anxious. His fears that outlaws would find Miss DelFino first had gone to sleep and were suddenly wide awake and screaming.</p><p>“Don’t see why not,” the sheriff replied. “You plastered wanted posters of her and the HighTower lad up and down the Pole-To-Pole Road all the way to Northernmost. I’m shocked she hasn’t been ambushed by bandits yet.”</p><p>“The HighTower lad must be keeping her alive,” Lt. Smythe commented. “Guess he’ll be marrying her as soon as he gets her home.”</p><p>“If you don’t retrieve her for your client first, you’ll never see her again,” the sheriff said. “Girls don’t come back after they marry into the Ennaretee. Doesn’t matter if they’re street girls or homesteaders’ daughters.”</p><p>“Why not?” RedHawk asked. Worse and worse, he thought.</p><p>“Because their new husbands keep them happy, I would assume,” the sheriff said dryly. “Well. We are wasting time. My runner said your young lady and HighTower left the post office and they should be here by now.”</p><p>“Since they’re not,” Lt. Smythe said, “we’re going to arrest the Jones brothers. I know for a fact that they’ve robbed, raped, and murdered so it’s my sworn duty to the Martian government to collect them.”</p><p>“Mine too,” the sheriff said.</p><p>“But I’m paying you to capture Miss DelFino and Fen HighTower for Orlov,” RedHawk protested.</p><p>“So you are but they are not here,” the sheriff told him. “Hikaru and Bryant Jones are.”</p><p>“They are not in Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne’s league,” Lt. Smythe added, “but they are evil bastards. They work with slavers. I have to give Reg and Killem credit; they never worked for anyone but themselves and they enjoyed butchering slavers when they had the chance. Killed the unlucky slaves too, but then you can’t expect better from murderous psychos. Mr. RedHawk, you wait here where you’ll be safe while the sheriff and I do our jobs.”</p><p>“Right,” RedHawk replied. “And what about my job? The one where I’m paying you to retrieve Miss DelFino?”</p><p>“We’re here, right where you wanted us to be. On the 50° Latitude Road heading east.” The sheriff grinned at him. So did Lt. Smythe and every man in the posse. Even the horses looked amused.</p><p>“Damnation,” RedHawk swore as light dawned. “You knew HighTower wouldn’t come this way.” His mind raced. There had to be a way to salvage the situation.</p><p>“I didn’t know for sure,” the sheriff said and winked. “But you didn’t bother asking what I thought a Steppes Rider would do. That lad is a member of the HighTower ruling family. Ennaretee rulers expect their sons to be as capable on the steppes as their vaqueros.”</p><p>Lt. Smythe said, “the further away from civilization an Ennaretee family is, the closer to the steppes they are. HighTower is closer to the Wildside than to the Pole-To-Pole Corridor. They’re practically savages themselves. I would expect their sons to be fully-fledged Steppes Riders, able to live outdoors anywhere at any time of the year. You’ll never see that lad until he crosses the last government corridor in Robinsin to get home and maybe not then.”</p><p>“True,” the sheriff agreed. “Would you like a piece of advice, considering how much coin you’ve paid me?”</p><p>RedHawk sighed deeply. “Yes, I would, sheriff, Lt. Smythe. And anything else you think I should know about the Ennaretee before I leave Darnay and report my failure to my boss and to Orlov.”</p><p>The sheriff grinned again. “Over supper tonight. The next train south to Barsoom won’t be leaving until tomorrow afternoon anyways. But first, Hikaru and Bryant Jones. They’ve earned themselves nooses ten times over.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Lt. Smythe said with an equally toothy grin. “I’ll join you two for supper.”</p><p>“My treat, of course,” RedHawk replied, bowing to the inevitable. He wasn’t staying at the Ares Triumphant Hotel as it was too expensive but like Jennet Quispe in Merreth, the sheriff and Lt. Smythe would be impressed by eating at the classiest place in town. They could never afford it, not on their salaries. They’d be less likely to tease him and more likely to provide useful information.</p><p>He smiled gracefully. “We’ll meet at the Ares Triumphant Hotel restaurant. Bring your wives. I’m sure they’ll enjoy a night out.”</p><p>As RedHawk hoped, the sheriff and Lt. Smythe both lit up with pleasure. They’d talk, their wives would talk, and he’d listen. The realization was painful. He should have learned as much as possible about Fen HighTower and the Ennaretee culture he hailed from the day he heard the name. But he hadn’t, assuming that since he knew what worked in Barsoom, he knew what worked everywhere else. Mr. Parminder had made the same mistake. They had assumed and events kept proving them to be asses.</p><p>A thought waved madly at him. What the sheriff had said. Oh Gods, no wonder they’d let him make a fool of himself while taking his money.</p><p>“You knew that Fen HighTower is a member of the ruling family.”</p><p>The sheriff and Lt. Smythe grinned in unison as did the entire posse.</p><p>“Have you met him?” RedHawk asked carefully.</p><p>“No, never,” the sheriff replied as Lt. Smythe nodded in agreement. “But we do know Lynch. Got to work with <em>them</em> every day. One of your lad’s aunts came from Lynch. She married Macon HighTower, the current daimyo’s brother. The Lynch family has already expressed its concern to me over how their relative might be treated.”</p><p>Oh Gods, RedHawk thought. Lynch must wield the power in Darnay that DelFino does in Barsoom.</p><p>He forced out a smile.</p><p>“They did the same with Internal Security,” Lt. Smythe said. “And your lad’s full name is Fenrick Pfeiffer HighTower. Younger son of the daimyo of HighTower.”</p><p>Oh Gods ten times over, RedHawk thought with dismay. I was doomed to fail the minute I got off the train in Darnay. But I’m still ahead of those DelFino fools cooling their heels in jail.</p><p>“Well,” he said. “We’ll talk more over dinner tonight. In the meantime, if I understood correctly, those Jones brothers need capturing and hanging.”</p><p>“They certainly do,” the sheriff said with a laugh.</p><hr/><p>“I told you our luck was gone,” Bryant said gloomily. “We’re in shackles.” He kicked out sharply to emphasize the chains restraining his legs. His stomach hurt too. He and Hikaru were seated on a bench in an overcrowded jail cell in Darnay. They were the only ones in chains, however.</p><p>“We’re still lucky,” Hikaru said stoutly. “We’re not on our way to Woo Plantation Number Seven.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Bryant told his brother. “We’d be slaves but we’d be alive instead of being hung at dawn.”</p><p>“I won’t shut up, little brother,” Hikaru snapped. “I’d rather be hanged than staked. It’s quick.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. We must have her back or Orlov will crush you into dust.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I have to have water, Fen. I can’t wait another day,” Lannie said irritably.</p><p>“I am working on it,” he replied, equally testy because of how annoyed he was with himself.</p><p>He had overestimated his ability to read Lynch sign. He had located a dewpond by accident because HighTower would have never used a similar location. If it hadn’t been for the horses smelling water, he wouldn’t have found it at all. They’d gotten water there but that was two days ago. If he didn’t find water soon, in any form, they had to head south to the 50° Latitude Road and locate a waystation. Waystations this far north were, as he knew full well, much farther apart than they were on the Pole-To-Pole Road. Less traffic of every kind so it stood to reason the Martian government wouldn’t pony up the coin to build any more waystations than they had to.</p><p>They had enough water, if they were careful, for several more days of drinking. But not enough water to take care of Lannie’s needs.</p><p>He knew approximately where they were. Still traveling in the government corridor while remaining barely south of Lynch’s border. He had gone exploring while Lannie broke camp that morning and spotted a boundary cairn. That proved they were about fifty klicks or so north of the 50° Road. If they were near the halfway point of Lynch’s territory and he thought they were based on their traveling speed, there was a good chance he’d locate one of Lynch’s own shelters, built within their borders for their own people. Ennaretee shelters always came with a well or a cistern. But after observing how Lynch located and constructed a dewpond, he was no longer sure that Lynch would build shelters and stock them the way HighTower would.</p><p>But it was their best chance.</p><p>“Lannie? We’re gonna cross the boundary into Lynch,” he announced.</p><p>“I thought you wanted to avoid them,” Lannie snapped. “Because of the Pearls. That’s why we’re in the middle of nowhere.”</p><p>“I did. I do. But you’ve got to have water. You’ve said so for the last two days. You were quite clear on the subject of reusing your monthly clothes without washing them out. It’s that or the waystation and if Lynch does what we do in HighTower, they’ll have a shelter with water,” he snapped back.</p><p>“With their own people hovering around it!” she shrieked, waving one hand madly and clutching Brownie with the other. The dog yipped in disapproval. Her discomfort was maddening. Luckily, Handsome liked Brownie.</p><p>“Better than the government waystation especially since I’ve got no idea where the closest one is,” he shot back. “Unless you want to wait longer?” He showed his teeth.</p><p>“No! Find this mythical Lynch shelter,” she snarled.</p><p>He glared all around as the horses ambled through the waist-high grass leaving a trail a blind man could follow. The clouds overhead were high, large, and moving fast, revealing and concealing the sun so the oceans of grass moved in and out of shadow. A flash caught his eye.</p><p>“I found it!” he crowed in triumph.</p><p>“Already? Impossible.”</p><p>“Not quite,” Fen conceded. “See that flash in the sun?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He sighed. “Follow my finger.” He pointed and she looked and saw nothing and said so.</p><p>“Just trust me, then, yeah?”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. “I’m sorry I’m being grumpy.”</p><p>“It’s what I expected after your last monthly,” he said, pleased enough at spotting Lynch’s marker to be unwary.</p><p>“<em>What?!</em>”</p><p>He gritted his teeth. Better to not answer and add fuel to the fire.</p><p>They rode in sullen silence, Fen leading the way, keeping his eye on where he’d seen the flash. He hoped desperately that he was right and within a few minutes, he knew he was. The flash flickered again and again as the clouds drew together and broke apart. It grew imperceptibly larger with each reappearance.</p><p>Another ten minutes and Lannie saw what he was talking about.</p><p>Ten minutes after that, they neared a tall rock cairn topped with glittering quartz, erected on top of a small hill.</p><p>“You found a marker,” Lannie conceded. “I don’t see any cistern or well.”</p><p>“It’s on the other side of that hill, facing Lynch.”</p><p>“Into the north wind?” she asked querulously. “You told me that everything built in the Ennaretee faced away from the prevailing winds. That means this mythical well isn’t being sheltered by that hill and it’s right in the path of the winter wind. So there.”</p><p>“Rock cairns marking a supply dump are different,” Fen argued. “We don’t want them to be seen.”</p><p>“Is that why Lynch built a rock tower that must be three meters high on the top of a hill and it’s studded with quartz to flash in the sun? To make it invisible?” she asked sweetly.</p><p>“We’re too far away from the Road and everything else for it to matter,” Fen said. “Casual strangers never come this far north unless they’re so lost that the steppes kill them first. Or they’re very, very, very lucky. This cairn and its supply soddy are on Lynch’s land. You saw the boundary markers. They patrol their boundaries regularly so they need this supply dump.”</p><p>“How nice,” Lannie said. “They’ll find us and then what do we do?”</p><p>“They’re relatives of mine. We’ll talk.”</p><hr/><p>There was no soddy carved out of the hill under the cairn. Lynch did not leave any markings that Fen could decipher. He insisted that there was be a reason for the cairn. He searched, assuming that the soddy itself was tucked not too far away. While he searched, Lannie made helpful comments on where someone from Lynch would hide something so that they could easily find it and no one else could.</p><p>They were slowly circling the cairn in increasingly larger circles when Brownie demanded to be let down. She bolted through the high grass, yipping, to yet another anonymous hill. Fen swore, steered Tabasco after her, Lannie followed on Handsome, and Coppertail brought up the rear.</p><p>They found the dog yapping at a door built into the south side of a hill, identical to the ones around it. The door was caked with carefully arranged terraformers, letting it vanish into the grass. The hill on both sides of the door was shaped to further conceal the door from anyone who wasn’t looking at it head on.</p><p>“I told you she was a good dog,” Lannie crowed. She dismounted, scooped up Brownie, and told her over and over what a very good dog she was. The dog gave Fen a smug look and Lannie an adoring one.</p><p>“A good dog,” Fen said and rolled his eyes. He dismounted, hobbled the horses, and checked for a well or cistern and soon located a well and a stock tank, even more cunningly concealed, between rises and falls of the hill. It was hard to believe a natural hill would be so conveniently shaped and he told Lannie so.</p><p>“Because they don’t want it to be found,” she declared. Her thoughts flashed back home; seeing Charlton climbing out of the muddy ditch with his peasants all those months ago while Walter watched from the field, high and dry. A surge of homesickness stabbed her and she swallowed grief and loss and focused on what her memory was telling her.</p><p>“Lynch must have had teams of men out here, reshaping the land with shovels. That’s how the ditches at home got dug.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’re right. We’ll take our chances with Lynch finding us,” Fen said. “I’ll get the pump primed. Get water for the horses, yourself, and the waterskins while I check the soddy. There must be something inside that Brownie smelled.”</p><p>“If you find a treat for her, bring it back,” Lannie asked.</p><hr/><p>To Fen’s intense relief, the soddy door had a simple latch and not a lock he’d have to smash. Inside, it was like home. The soddy had pale bamboo walls, floor, and ceiling and was lined with shelves and ceiling hooks. Sacks of dried meat were suspended from the ceiling to keep rodents and other critters at bay. Buckets and empty waterskins. Tools of various types. Replacement tack. Blankets, ponchos, and tarps. Snares and traps. Mil-rats still in their government-issue crates, carefully stacked on shaped stones to deter rodents and dampness. Everything was well-organized and orderly, showing that it was kept up and restocked as needed. Ah. There it was. A cunningly designed tunnel at about waist-high in the corner, allowing hidden access through a series of baffles to keep out weather, rain, and unwanted visitors. Like HighTower, Lynch maintained a cat colony at the soddy to eat rodents. If these cats were like the ones at home, they’d never see them.</p><p>Brownie might notice, making her yappier than usual.</p><p>He took down one of the sacks of dried meat. This must be what Brownie had smelled since she wasn’t off chasing cats. He and Lannie could eat some tonight. He’d have to leave a note for Lynch, offering repayment at a later date.</p><p>Hmm. Now there was an idea. It looked like Lynch had recently restocked so their vassals would not return soon. Other than routine patrols, the Hands and their crews would be on their way to Lynch’s northern borders with the herds.</p><p>He closed the door behind him and ran to find Lannie.</p><p>“I got an idea,” he said and took over pumping water for her.</p><p>“Yeah?” Lannie answered. It was embarrassing to wash out her monthly cloths in front of Fen but he was a lot faster at pumping water than she was so she pushed the embarrassment away. She flashed on the maids at home, doing the job for her, and she’d never once considered what they thought of rinsing someone else’s monthly blood out of a cloth.</p><p>“We can stay here until you don’t need daily water,” Fen said with a grin. “Give the horses a break. Give us a break. We can sleep dry inside the soddy if it rains. And we can resupply so we don’t need to sign for mil-rats any more. I’ll take enough to get us to HighTower. We’ll only stop for water at waystations.”</p><p>“Can we do that? I mean, aren’t these supplies for Lynch?”</p><p>“I’ll leave a note that I’ll repay as soon as I get home to HighTower.”</p><p>“They’ll accept that?”</p><p>“They’ll have to. We’ll be long gone by the time another patrol group comes riding by. From the lack of dust, this soddy was restocked recently so it won’t be checked for weeks. The cairn was swept clean.”</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said, thinking hard while her hands rinsed blood out of cloth in painfully cold water. She beamed at him as she thought of sleeping inside an actual building even if it was made of dirt and built into the side of a hill. “No one’s expecting us to reach HighTower by a certain date. If we spend a few days here, it’ll be even harder for DelFino or Orlov to find us.”</p><p>“Yeah. I know they’re hunting for us. Seeing our wanted posters in the post office in Darnay proves it. They may be waiting for us in Robinsin but they can damn well wait longer.”</p><p>She laughed and looked around at the stock tank, the pump, the empty steppes surrounding them and said, “you take me to all the best places.”</p><p>He smiled back, his heart singing. Brownie yipped impatiently and stood on her back paws, putting her front paws on his calves. She wagged her tail madly.</p><p>“You were a good dog, Brownie,” he said. “You found the soddy and you earned a reward.” Fen fished out some strips of dried meat and to her quivering joy, fed them to Brownie one by one.</p><hr/><p>“If I do this, you’ll quit stalling and marry me?” Silas asked. He lifted Ulla’s chin to better study her face with his cool gray eyes.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“I knew I chose correctly with you, Ulla, my darling. You will be the best daimyah Avongale has ever had. The welfare of your people matters to you more than anything on Mars.”</p><p>“Silas, I can’t fail Lannie again,” Ulla said. “I just can’t. That last postcard tore my heart in two. She doesn’t think any of us care except because —” she closed her mouth with a snap.</p><p>“Except what?” Silas asked promptly. “I know there’s something else, something bigger going on.”</p><p>Ulla sighed and instead of pulling away, sank into his arms. It felt so good to rely on someone else for a change. She gazed up at his face. She’d be marrying him soon. It would work. They both wanted it to work, improving the odds still more.</p><p>“Yes, there is. I swore not to tell so I can’t tell you. Not yet. Maybe not ever. How soon can we leave for HighTower?”</p><p>“As soon as my secretary makes the travel arrangements. This will be good for my political ambitions and for Avongale.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I thought you did. You are very intelligent, Ulla.”</p><p>“Not intelligent enough or I’d have screamed to the world about those poisoned tisanes,” she muttered, low-voiced enough that he couldn’t quite catch what she said.</p><p>“Are you sure you don’t want to marry first?” Silas asked.</p><p>“Yes. I have to rescue Lannie. I can’t think about anything else. It’s eating me up inside.”</p><p>“We’ll find her,” he said reassuringly and pulled her closer. He stroked her blonde hair and thought, Ulla. My Ulla. My daimyah. “Waiting a few more weeks will allow the priest to choose the most auspicious day. Better for the land.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Ulla said in as noncommittal a voice as she could manage. She was grateful Silas couldn’t see her face, pressed into his shoulder as it was. Ennagzee farmers were as far away from civilization as they could get, she thought. This must be another of their weird customs like burning that collection of grain maidens when I was last in Avongale. Our peasants do that in DelFino but our daimyo doesn’t throw the first maiden into the bonfire when the priest tells him too like Silas’s granduncle did. Gods only know what the Ennaretee is like. Full of savages. HighTower practically borders the Wildside. Lannie, I have to save you.</p><hr/><p>The Postmaster brought the mail as he now did every time anything arrived from Lannie. He handed over the postcard to Charlton, his face blank.</p><p>“Postmarked Darnay, my lord,” he said.</p><p>Charlton read the card and swallowed grief as the message seared into his soul. Lannie, I failed you, he thought. Will you read the letters we wrote to you at HighTower? Or will you be too angry? Will you even receive them is a better question. He handed the postcard to Iolanthe who flinched. She steeled herself, passed it to Constance and waited for the flood of grief and recriminations.</p><p>They weren’t long coming.</p><p>“My baby,” her mother-in-law wailed and dissolved into heaving sobs. “My own daughter thinks we don’t love her!”</p><p>“Charlton,” Jorge said. “I’ll take care of your mother. It would be best, I think, if you and Iolanthe take dessert out on the terrace.”</p><p>“The office first,” Charlton replied. “My dear?”</p><p>“Of course,” Iolanthe murmured. Darnay, she thought. Lannie must be going to HighTower with Fen. Or could they actually be traveling to Northernmost? That seemed impossible but there was nowhere else left for Lannie to go other than Fen’s home or the end of Mars. No, it had to be HighTower. Ulla’s letter had been clear about what her new source from Ozigbow told her. Fen’s girlfriend from Barsoom was named Lannie. There couldn’t be two Lannies.</p><p>Once settled into the office and the newest pin stabbed into the map, she studied it again, contemplating the distance between Darnay and Robinsin. The curvature of Mars meant that the distance between Darnay and Robinsin was far less than the distance between Barsoom and Nourz. As cold as it had to be, the weather was gradually turning into what passed for summer in those frozen northern wastelands. It wouldn’t take long for Lannie and Fen to reach HighTower.</p><p>She told Charlton her hypothesis and he agreed.</p><p>“A few weeks,” he said. “Zachery refused permission again for us to travel to HighTower. He came right out and told me that he’d confiscate my estates if I go anywhere other than Telduv or DelFino Castle.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Iolanthe said. “What about me? I could travel with Susan. And Harry to carry the baggage and look out for us. And anyone else you think I would need.”</p><p>Charlton grimaced. “Zachery already thought of that. If you go, he’ll levy punitive taxes on me and all our people for the next twenty years.”</p><p>“Which is why he’s the daimyo,” Iolanthe said. “Damn his eyes. I hope Ulla’s plan will work.”</p><p>“Has she told you how she actually feels about Silas Avongale?”</p><p>“Yes. She thinks it is a good match for both of them and Silas seems to want her to be happy. Although…” Iolanthe’s voice trailed off. “I feel like there’s something Ulla’s not telling me.”</p><p>“Ulla?” Charlton said. “She doesn’t have enough imagination to lie.”</p><p>“It doesn’t take imagination to keep your mouth shut,” Iolanthe said dryly.</p><p>“Ulla can’t do that either,” Charlton reminded her.</p><hr/><p>Mr. Parminder and John RedHawk stood on the street, gazing at the front door of the Orlov townhouse with the same enthusiasm of men looking at the gallows where they were to be executed.</p><p>“You don’t have to accompany me, Mr. Parminder,” RedHawk said. “The failing was mine.”</p><p>“I accepted the case, John,” Mr. Parminder reminded him. “Not you. I let my greed run away with me. I’ve never worked a case for the Four Hundred before in any capacity and I saw this one as a stepping stone to higher status jobs. How hard could it be to locate a runaway bride of the Four Hundred? I expected to find Miss Yilanda within hours. I was wrong. I’ve been wrong about every aspect of this case since I took it.”</p><p>“They are lying to us,” RedHawk said. “We have not gotten the entire story.”</p><p>“John,” Mr. Parminder sighed. “Clients always lie. It goes with the territory. I expected Orlov to lie and they did not disappoint me. I did <em>not</em> expect the lie to matter as much as it has and I definitely did not expect Miss Yilanda to prove so desperate that she ran off with a scruffy savage she met in a livery stable.</p><p>“At least we can tell our clients,” he continued, “that we know where Miss Yilanda is going. HighTower. Where she will most likely marry Fenrick HighTower, younger son of the daimyo of HighTower. I don’t see how Orlov can object to Miss Yilanda marrying within the Four Hundred even if they are a demesne as distant from civilization as HighTower.”</p><p>Mr. Parminder turned back to RedHawk. “You are sure of this information?”</p><p>“Yes, sir,” RedHawk replied. “The sheriff of Darnay and Lt. Smythe in charge of Internal Security in that region were quite detailed. Lynch had been receiving messages — by pigeon if you can believe it! — from HighTower to look out for Fen and his girlfriend, Lannie. The sheriff and Lt. Smythe filled me in on every aspect of Ennaretee customs.”</p><p>Mr. Parminder sighed deeply. “Would knowing these customs at the start of the investigation made a difference?”</p><p>“Probably not,” RedHawk admitted. “The minute the lad began traveling with Miss Yilanda off the Road, parallel to the steppes, they vanished. Other than that traveling show, the only record they left was at waystations, signing for mil-rats, and when Miss Yilanda needed to wash out her lady’s needs. They didn’t stop any more than they absolutely had to. They slept out on the steppes in the wilderness.”</p><p>“A lady of the Four Hundred, sleeping in the dirt along the side of the road,” Mr. Parminder murmured. “Impossible to believe.”</p><p>“But that’s what they did,” RedHawk said. “The sheriff insisted that no Steppes Rider, whatever his status, would sleep in a waystation, if he was alive to refuse.”</p><p>“No wonder you couldn’t find them.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“It can no longer be helped. Into the bear’s den, John. They won’t eat us.”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Parminder,” RedHawk said. “They’ll do everything but,” he added under his voice.</p><hr/><p>Dimitri Orlov leaned back in the big chair, watching them with cold, angry eyes.</p><p>It was almost a throne, Mr. Parminder thought, examining the Orlov townhouse’s palatial office without seeming to do so. He took everything in, as he had done so from the moment the butler, Matsuda, opened the imposing front door of the Orlov townhouse. More of the art, antiques, curiosities, even the furniture had vanished from halls and rooms since the last time he’d visited. The Orlovs were still paying their bills but they were managing by selling assets. Never a good sign. A sign, in fact, that it was time to get out. He’d made money on this case, but the psychic cost was climbing.</p><p>“My lord Orlov,” Mr. Parminder said.</p><p>“I am not the ruler of Orlov,” Dimitri snapped. “Rastislav is our daimyo.”</p><p>Mr. Parminder bowed briefly and replied, “my apologies.”</p><p>“A man as canny as you wouldn’t make that mistake,” Dimitri said even more frostily. “Are you toadying me?”</p><p>“I did not make a mistake,” Mr. Parminder replied, equally cold. “Rastislav remains the daimyo in name —” he nodded at the large pearl-bedecked screen in the corner “— but you are in charge here in Barsoom. I assume the triumvirate remains in charge in Orlov. What Rastislav’s current position is within your family, I do not know nor do I care. But he is no longer in charge.”</p><p>“You’ve been researching us,” Dimitri growled, leaning forward. He bared his teeth.</p><p>“I have, my lord,” Mr. Parminder said.</p><p>“We are wasting time,” Dimitri said. “Where is Yilanda? I expected that RedHawk would collect her in Darnay, as per your message and the bills I paid.”</p><p>“She is on her way to HighTower with Fenrick HighTower, the daimyo’s youngest son,” Mr. Parminder said. “According to my sources, the lad will most likely wed Miss Yilanda soon after their arrival in HighTower. He is well placed within HighTower, although not daimyo material himself. Miss Yilanda will not land on barren sand. She will be safe, cossetted, and wed according to her status.”</p><p>Dimitri stood up slowly, leaned across the wide, heavy desk, and snarled, “I do not care. I want that bitch located and standing in front of me. I do not care what you do. I want her.”</p><p>“And Rastislav, my lord? Does he also want Miss Yilanda, knowing that you feel the same?” Mr. Parminder asked.</p><p>“Yes, he does.”</p><p>“I see.”</p><p>“We must have her back or Orlov will crush you into dust. Your firm will be in ruins. Your children will be sold into servitude to pay off your debts. Your employees and their children —”</p><p>“—You will do nothing!” Mr. Parminder thundered, leaning forward until he was almost nose to nose with Dimitri. “Or I will reveal to all of Mars the thin financial ice Orlov has been skating on. Your debts will be called in within minutes after I release the information I dug up on you.”</p><p>“You cannot do that if you are dead. You and that fool, RedHawk, are in my townhouse. That means you are standing in Orlov so you belong to me.”</p><p>Mr. Parminder straightened with a cheerful smile. Only his tight fingers, wrapped around his staff, betrayed anxiety. “If I do not return promptly, my agents will release the information. Only my presence and continued cooperation ensure that Orlov’s impending financial ruin remains in the shadows. That holds true in the future as well so kindly refrain from arranging any unfortunate accidents. Here is a list of the merchants and banks you owe money to. It is by no means complete.” He laid a neatly typed document on the desk.</p><p>He watched with satisfaction as Dimitri Orlov paled at the names.</p><p>“This is why you hired me, my lord Dimitri. I am the best at what I do. I admit that I radically underestimated how difficult it would be to find Miss Yilanda and I apologize for that mistake. I believe, however, that she surprised everyone and that no one could have succeeded as well as my firm has. Now. John RedHawk will go to Robinsin and wait for her and the HighTower lad to arrive. As he is a member of one of the four local ruling families, we cannot expect cooperation from any of the local law enforcement. John will be on their territory, not ours, and must play by their rules. Based on what happened in Darnay, the locals will, in fact, actively oppose us. I recommend that you go to Robinsin as well. It is possible that Miss Yilanda may cooperate with you since her brother married your sister and you have a family relationship.”</p><p>Dimitri picked up the paper and crumpled it in his fist.</p><p>“I will do that,” he grated out.</p><p>“Have you, my lord Orlov, told us everything?” Mr. Parminder asked sweetly. “Every detail is critical.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>. Get out.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord Orlov,” Mr. Parminder said. He bowed deeply to Dimitri, bowed much more shallowly toward the pearl-bedecked screen in the corner, and took his leave.</p><p>Safely back on the street, Mr. Parminder said, “Always keep something in reserve, John. It’s very useful when clients become difficult.”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Parminder,” RedHawk replied, bemused.</p><p>“Are those gentlemen lurking in the alley with Goryonov?”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Parminder,” RedHawk said. “I’ve spoken with them or their partners numerous times. They are waiting for Orlov to kick Albion DelFino out.”</p><p>“Events are coming to a head. Inform them that they may not have to wait much longer.”</p><p>“Should I speak with them now or will you need assistance getting back to the office?”</p><p>“Now will do. I should be fine. Dimitri Orlov is not a fool like Rastislav.” Mr. Parminder showed his teeth. “Goryonov’s men will appreciate the tip, as will their daimyo.”</p><p>“Yes, Mr. Parminder.”</p><hr/><p>“You may come out of your hole,” Dimitri announced.</p><p>Rastislav shambled out from behind the pearl-bedecked screen, aided by a solicitous Albion.</p><p>“You did well, nephew,” he rasped. He very carefully kept his eyes respectfully lowered on the floral carpet rather than risk Dimitri’s hair-trigger temper again. He beat down fury at behaving like the lowliest serf; Dimitri had been a harsh master.</p><p>“Let me be clear. I have no desire to be named daimyo. I have even less interest in that bitch. My loyalty is to Orlov, first, last, and always,” Dimitri said. “I would throw you and Albion both to Goryonov, along with Yilanda, if I thought it would bring the Pearls home. I would crawl home on my knees if I thought that would bring the Pearls back. <em>You</em> caused this fiasco, Rastislav. I do not need your praise.”</p><p>“Nephew,” Rastislav began.</p><p>“Shut up and go to your room. I must confer with papa, Ljubo, and Morley.”</p><p>“Come, my dearest friend,” Albion said, responding to the obvious cue. “I have a new play that will amuse you and ease your pain.”</p><p>Rastislav allowed himself to be led from the room by Albion. He moved like a man much older than he actually was, a man beaten down by time and events, a man who now lived with pain on a daily basis.</p><p>Once out of the office, they slowly made their way down the hall to the grand staircase leading upstairs.</p><p>“Don’t lay it on too thick,” Albion whispered.</p><p>“I don’t want him to hurt me again, you fool,” Rastislav spat back.</p><p>“Dimitri has to believe you are no longer a threat,” Albion countered. “If he thinks for even a moment that you are faking your ailments, he will never believe anything you say or do again.”</p><p>“Perhaps you are right,” Rastislav conceded and moved a little more freely. He flinched and gasped as pain lanced through him. “I am not faking. I will murder that brute for what he did to me.”</p><p>“Not yet,” Albion said. “But soon. Like we planned. We’ll get the Pearls and my daughter back.”</p><p>Rastislav jerked his head around and hissed, “<em>I</em> will get the Pearls and your daughter. Not you. I will.”</p><p>“Of course, my dearest friend and father of my grandchildren,” Albion said smoothly. I have got to get the hellation out of here, he agonized for about the thousandth time. Maybe my chance will come when Dimitri leaves for Robinsin and leaves us behind. He won’t throw me to Goryonov until after he returns. He’ll enjoy handing me over, the vicious sod, and enjoy even more watching how they torture me.</p><hr/><p>“Damnation!” Zachery swore. “Do you know how much it cost me to bail you and your entire crew of hired hands out of jail in Darnay?”</p><p>“Yes, my lord, I do,” his private aide replied. “My deepest apologies. But I learned something important that I did not wish to entrust to a letter.”</p><p>“And what could that possibly be?” Zachery stormed around his office in DelFino Castle. “This is taking too long. How can that foolish, ignorant girl and some scruffy member of a pack of savages keep eluding me?”</p><p>“And Orlov, my lord,” his personal aide said. “They failed as well. I listened carefully while in Darnay.”</p><p>Zachery stopped stomping around and sat behind his desk.</p><p>“Go ahead,” he said.</p><p>The aide plunged into the story and by the time he was finished, Zachery was nodding.</p><p>“I see,” the daimyo of DelFino said. “I shall have to go to Robinsin and humble myself in front of that idiot, Borden HighTower, if I want to have any chance at collecting even part of the Pearls.”</p><p>“That would be my guess, my lord.”</p><p>“He has refused all my envoys and overtures.”</p><p>“He may not refuse you in person, my lord.”</p><p>Zachery smiled coldly. “Not if he wants to get anything accomplished ever again in the Conclave. You are dismissed.”</p><p>“Thank you, my lord.”</p><hr/><p>“That bastard,” Ljubo Orlov swore. “How did Parminder learn all that?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Dimitri answered the skynet screen. “But he did. I must go to Robinsin if we are to have any hope of retrieving the Pearls. Uncle Ljubo? Papa? Suggestions?”</p><p>Jerold Orlov swore heavily too. “We cannot risk Parminder revealing the extent of our debt. He does not know the half of it, yet what he does know will destroy us.”</p><p>“The harpy suggested we declare bankruptcy,” Dimitri said.</p><p>“Never,” Ljubo stated and Jerold and Morley nodded in solemn agreement. “We would never be able to hold our heads up in society again.”</p><p>“We may not have a choice,” Dimitri muttered with open disapproval.</p><p>“There is always a choice,” Jerold said. He exchanged glances with Ljubo and Morley. Even though they were thousands of klicks away, visible through a piece of Olde Earth technology, Dimitri could sense their agitation and despair.</p><p>“We must tell him,” Morley said.</p><p>Dimitri waited patiently, watching his cousin, uncle, and father whisper among themselves back home in Orlov Castle. It was irritating to deal with the triumvirate, waiting for them to reach an agreement, but still infinitely better than dealing with Rastislav. Morley was too concerned with the serfs’ wellbeing, papa agonized over the finances, and Ljubo worried about the status of Orlov. But they were, as a group, responsible and competent. It just took time, time he feared they no longer had.</p><p>“My son,” Jerold took the lead this time. “We have had dreams.”</p><p>“Madame Orlov has spoken to all of us,” Ljubo said.</p><p>“I would not have believed it if she had not visited me three nights in succession,” Morley said. “I never believed the sot. But now her message is clear.”</p><p>“And?” Dimitri asked cautiously.</p><p>“You must go to Robinsin. And you must bring the sot with you,” Jerold said.</p><p>“You are insane!” Dimitri shrieked. “If Yilanda sees him anywhere near Robinsin, she’ll bolt and throw the Pearls out onto the steppes while she runs away!”</p><p>“Then you can scoop them up from the ground!” his father yelled back.</p><p>“Enough!” Ljubo roared. “Madame Orlov unsettled us all. But her messages have now become clear. She wants the sot, I don’t know why, to go to Robinsin with you.”</p><p>Dimitri groaned. “He stopped drinking. Despite my … enforcing discipline, he has remained sober. He is sly and not trustworthy.”</p><p>“We know. We are asking you to shoulder another burden,” Jerold said.</p><p>“We believe you should bring Albion DelFino with you as well,” Morley said, breaking the unhappy silence.</p><p>“What!” Dimitri shrieked louder. “That rotted ham? If Yilanda sees him, she’ll run for it.”</p><p>“Perhaps not,” Jerold said. “He is her father.”</p><p>“You are thinking, papa,” Dimitri said icily, “of my sister Iolanthe and how the two of you get along. I assure you, Yilanda may have once agreed to anything her father said. No longer.”</p><p>“Even so, bring him and the sot to Robinsin. That is our decision,” Jerold said.</p><p>“He’ll want the private railcar,” Dimitri said.</p><p>“It’s been sold,” Morley replied. “He’ll have to share a first-class compartment with you and the ham. Your servants will have to share a second-class compartment. If he complains, tell him we cannot afford anything else because of his stupidity.”</p><p>“If he complains,” Ljubo added, “you may … discipline him again. As you see fit.”</p><p>“You must retrieve the Pearls, my son,” Jerold said. “Orlov depends upon you. The dream messages were clear. The sot and the ham must travel with you.”</p><p>“The harpy is right. We are all barking mad,” Dimitri said and broke the connection.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. We are not watching them. It is not fitting.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“They left a trail a blind man could follow,” Istvan, Hand of Lynch, told his companions. He was traveling with his Steppes partner, Kibo of Lynch, their crew of vaqueros, and Orlando Lynch. He had circled around, ensuring the light, fitful breeze blew onto their faces and carried their scent behind them. The sun was on their backs and the morning was unseasonably warm, as it had been the last few days.</p><p>“Is that your cousin?” Kibo asked pointing towards two people in the distance. They had their arms wrapped around each other, making it harder to see their faces.</p><p>“I never met Fen so I don’t know,” Orlando said. He was over a decade younger than either Hand. At the same time, he was far less experienced than the vaqueros in their crew, despite being a few years older. “I do know Ethan HighTower but I don’t know if they resemble each other. Look at them. Traveling without a dog. Ethan said Fen was the idiot runt of the litter and I guess he was right. Said he was a coward, too.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t put my faith in anything Ethan HighTower says,” Istvan said dryly. “I remember him well.”</p><p>“So do I,” Kibo said, equally dry. “Try to remember, Orlando, that Fen rode from HighTower to Barsoom alone and it’s damned hard to keep a pack of dogs in the city without buckets of money. Which HighTower does not have.”</p><p>“I got a fifth cousin in Krangland who spoke very highly of how Fen HighTower dealt with bandits and rescued Janson of Krangland and what was left of his crew,” Istvan added. “Notice that Fen HighTower is still alive.”</p><p>“I guess,” Orlando said sulkily. “Oooh. Look at her hair, all loose and free. That must be Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino like the wanted poster said. She looks pretty. Can’t wait to see more.”</p><p>“We are not watching them,” Istvan said firmly. “It is not fitting. We’ll come back in half an hour when they’re done.”</p><p>“Agreed,” Kibo added in a no-nonsense tone of voice. “Lads, we’re moving back.”</p><p>“I want to be sure it’s my cousin before I introduce myself,” Orlando argued, craning for a better look.</p><p>Yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap!</p><p>A dog began barking hysterically. An instant later the three horses hobbled near the couple lifted their heads from grazing and whinnied.</p><p>“Dammit!” Istvan said. “The wind shifted. No help for it now.”</p><hr/><p>Fen and Lannie leaped apart, galvanized by Brownie’s hysterical barking and the three horses’ alertness. He didn’t waste time yanking on a shirt and thanked his lucky stars that they’d only been kissing in between his combing Lannie’s hair out prior to braiding it for the day.</p><p>“Stop where you are!” he called out over Brownie’s incessant yapping to the troop of Steppes Riders trotting towards them. The morning sun shone in his face and he couldn’t clearly make out sigils. It had to be Lynch. What the hellation were they doing here? The soddy’s condition implied that no one would return to this area for weeks. Worse, they were approaching from the east and until moments ago, they were downwind.</p><p>He prayed they would stop and not run them down. He kept his hands near the hilts of his belt knives; booty from the fight with Reg and Killem. He didn’t have the advantage of surprise as he had with them and he was grossly outnumbered. If they were Lynch, they might be willing to talk.</p><p>Lannie stood tensely behind him. “Brownie warned us,” she whispered. She clutched a stone in each hand, held behind her back where they couldn’t be seen. She was far more accurate now than she had been when she met Reg and Killem. She’d been practicing diligently ever since and had accumulated a small collection of perfectly sized stones for throwing.</p><p>“She’s a good dog,” Fen whispered back. “You’ll have to run for it while I hold them off. The Pearls are in Coppertail’s saddlebags. Take him and flee south to the 50° Latitude Road. He can outrun most horses. Head east to HighTower. You know how to stay alive now so you can make it.”</p><p>“That’s going to be hard,” Lannie said. “There are eight of them and two of us.”</p><p>“You’re not fighting.”</p><p>“I can throw rocks. Besides, I’ll have to remove Coppertail’s hobbles and I can’t do that quick while you’re trying to fend them off. They’ll notice.”</p><p>“I’ll hold them off while you run, Lannie,” Fen hissed back.</p><p>“You two must be made for each other,” the lead stranger called out in a jovial voice. “Arguing when you should be doing something more sensible. I’m Istvan, Hand of Lynch. You are?”</p><p>Fen felt himself sag with relief but only for a moment. He kept his hands where they were.</p><p>“Fenrick HighTower.”</p><p>“And the young lady?”</p><p>“Lannie,” he replied, raising his voice to be heard over Brownie’s nonstop yapping.</p><p>“Sure about that? The wanted posters tacked up all over Darnay say different.”</p><p>“You know how those Barsoom fools get everything wrong,” Fen lied stoutly. “My aunt Sujatha is from Lynch. She married my uncle Macon.”</p><p>“We know,” Istvan replied. “HighTower sent messages to look out for you and your girlfriend, Lannie. Can you settle the dog down while we talk?”</p><p>“We can try,” Fen said honestly.</p><p>“How do they know about me?” Lannie asked, peeking out from behind Fen. She caught the glance of every man in front of her: their eyes kept going to her hair swinging loose and free as the freshening breeze played with it, lifting strands into the air. Fen’s hair was like theirs; confined to a single long braid.</p><p>“You’ll have to ask when you reach HighTower,” Istvan said. “They didn’t tell us.”</p><p>“If you’re Istvan, then who is with you?” Fen asked. Talking was good. It gave him time to think of and discard plans. If only Brownie would shut up. The tripping hazard cowered at Lannie’s feet and barked incessantly.</p><p>One of the young men with Istvan dismounted and swaggered toward them. He was much better dressed than the rest of the group. He wore finely dyed and woven wool, the Lynch sigil embroidered across his shirt and Lynch beads in his hair, his beard far neater than anyone else’s. He came with a few meters of Fen and Lannie, closer than anyone else, paused, and then kept coming.</p><p>Brownie quit cowering.</p><p>The dog lunged for the stranger, yapping all the way, and leaped to sink her fangs into his calf. He startled, stepped backwards, tripped and fell, making his unsecured horse rear and bolt into the steppes. The other horses weren’t pleased.</p><p>“I told you she was a good dog,” Lannie said. “Brownie! Come!”</p><p>Brownie ignored her and tried harder to bite the man on the ground, yapping and snarling, while he tried to squirm away. No one leaped to his rescue. The crew from Lynch had their hands full calming their horses.</p><p>“Stay here,” Fen ordered Lannie. “I’ve got to get the dog back before she savages my relative.”</p><p>“Her teeth aren’t that big and she’ll bite you too.”</p><p>“Damned dog!” the man rolling on the ground swore viciously and swung out at Brownie, scoring a direct hit. Brownie squealed in pain and retreated a few steps. Lannie screamed and beat Fen to her, racing to scoop the hysterical dog up into her arms.</p><p>She then kicked the man on the ground in his ribs and screamed “how dare you hurt my dog! You’re no better than the outlaws who murdered her original owners! Hurting an innocent little dog!” She kicked the man on the ground again, making him groan and swear harder.</p><p>“Lannie, quit right now,” Fen said, tugging her back to dubious safety and feeling extremely vulnerable to the crew from Lynch. Except they weren’t attacking. They were laughing while they got their horses calmed down. Their hands flew but Lynch’s handtalk was too different from HighTower for him to read it as fast as they were talking and at a bad angle. He got the gist of it, he thought. They weren’t hostile. Yet.</p><p>Istvan called out, “I’m sending one of the lads after Orlando’s horse.”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Fen called back automatically while running down the list of Lynch relatives’ names he could recall. Orlando sounded unpleasantly familiar. Hadn’t Ethan come home from a visit last Summer Solstice full of stories about his new best friend, Orlando Lynch? He and Orlando had indulged in all kinds of foolishness that they apparently got away with because of Orlando’s status in the Lynch family. Yeah, that sounded right. Damnation.</p><p>“Get up, Orlando,” Kibo called out from his lofty position atop his restive horse. “You’re making a fool of yourself, cowering away from a dog the size of a big rat.”</p><p>“That dog bit me!” Orlando yelled back.</p><p>“She was doing her job,” Fen said.</p><p>“Your girl kicked me!”</p><p>“Because you attacked my sweet little dog!” Lannie screamed at him over Fen’s shoulder. “You bully! I know your type. I bet you pull the wings off flies for fun.”</p><p>“I do not,” Orlando growled. He staggered to his feet and wiped the dirt from his face. Brownie had bitten his hand and he left a smear of blood.</p><p>“He doesn’t,” Istvan said. “Orlando can be a fool but he’s not mean.”</p><p>“This is getting us nowhere!” Fen yelled over Brownie’s yapping. He waved his hands for silence, unconsciously channeling his father. Brownie didn’t cooperate although everyone else did.</p><p>“What do you want from us?” he called out. “Lannie and me are heading home to HighTower. They know we are coming. They know we were in Darnay and when. They <em>will</em> come looking for us and they <em>will</em> ask questions.” He hoped.</p><p>“That’s why we’re here,” Istvan said. “To look for you and your girlfriend.”</p><p>“Fiancée. We’re getting married the day after we arrive in HighTower,” Fen said.</p><p>“Not the day you arrive?” Kibo asked suspiciously.</p><p>“My mother, Paroo Pfiefer HighTower, will need time to make arrangements,” Fen told the group.</p><p>“This okay with you, Miss Lannie?” Istvan asked.</p><p>“Yes, it is,” Lannie said. She soothed and petted Brownie who reluctantly settled in her arms, growling and baring her teeth whenever anyone from Lynch made the slightest move toward them.</p><p>“Your dog doesn’t like us,” Kibo said.</p><p>“Can you blame her?” Lannie shot back. “Her previous owners were murdered by outlaws near Daur!”</p><p>“True,” Fen said. “We found Brownie —”</p><p>“— Brownie found us,” Lannie corrected him.</p><p>“And then Brownie led us to their bodies.”</p><p>“Can’t say that surprises me,” Istvan said calmly. “Daur doesn’t patrol properly. Family’s been in disarray for years, fighting it out over who’s in charge.”</p><p>“I’ve heard the same about Lynch,” Fen said and wished immediately he hadn’t brought up unpleasant gossip.</p><p>“HighTower is so broke they send you, alone, to ride the corridor to Barsoom to take care of family business because they can’t afford a train ticket,” Istvan snapped.</p><p>“You are correct,” Fen conceded. “My apologies for bringing the matter up. Lynch’s internal concerns are not my business.”</p><p>“We’ve worked out our differences,” Orlando said as he finished dusting himself off and inspected fresh rips in his shirt and pants. “We’ll be electing a daimyo come this Winter Solstice.”</p><p>“May Winter’s blessings be upon you and your family so you make the best decision for your demesne,” Fen said automatically. “But we’re getting off track. What do you want with us?”</p><p>“Like Istvan said,” Orlando told him. “We got messages from HighTower to look out for you. All these wanted posters showed up in Darnay and every waystation all the way to Northernmost or so we heard. Looking for you as a pearl thief and as an accomplice in a certain young lady’s disappearance from Barsoom. Would you be that young lady, Miss Lannie?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t believe anything that anyone from Orlov says. Or DelFino,” Lannie said.</p><p>“I see. We got the note you left in the soddy. You gonna reimburse Lynch for those mil-rats? HighTower is broke,” Orlando said.</p><p>“Yes, I will,” Fen said firmly. “It may take me years but I will. Are you gonna tattle to Orlov or DelFino?”</p><p>Orlando laughed nastily. “Those goat-fucking Hot Zone conchesumas? No.” He described what happened in Darnay, finishing up with “You need to watch out for John RedHawk. He’s not a fool, despite being from Barsoom and an emissary of Orlov.”</p><p>“So that’s why no one bothered us in Darnay,” Fen said with a chuckle. “I couldn’t figure it out. We’ll be on our way and you have my deepest gratitude. I will not forget.”</p><p>“We’re not done yet,” Istvan said. His hands flew and Orlando looked pleased. Fen watched carefully but didn’t quite catch what Istvan said. They were working with Orlando? Like Dawud and Kavan had worked with him all those months ago? He thought he was correct.</p><p>“Havel!” Orlando called. “Got messages for you to send.”</p><p>One of the vaqueros rode up, leading another horse, causing Brownie to begin yapping hysterically again. Lannie backed away to sooth the dog and as she did, she caught again how every man from Lynch kept glancing at her hair, long and loose, fluttering in the increasing breeze. No wonder Fen had insisted she keep it braided and up. Her sleeves were at her wrists and her coverall was buttoned almost to her neck but she felt half-naked under their gaze.</p><p>The vaquero swung down and Lannie stared, her hair forgotten. His second horse patiently carried cages of pigeons. The pigeons cooed and fluttered in their cages, their bright beady eyes fixed on her and Brownie. It was surprising enough to make Brownie stop yapping for an ear-saving moment.</p><p>“Maybe you should step back a bit further, Miss Lannie,” Istvan called out over Brownie. “So’s your dog settles down.”</p><p>“Go ahead, Lannie,” Fen told her. “I’ve messages to write.”</p><p>“On <em>pigeons</em>?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He turned to Orlando. “I assume you’ll be relaying my message home, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah, we got no pigeons for further east than Schuster. They’ve got VanDenRooz pigeons so they’ll forward.”</p><p>“To HighTower,” Fen concluded. He smiled. “My brother Ethan spoke highly of you and Lynch after his visit. He had a wonderful time.”</p><p>“Good to hear. I’ll reassure him you’re doing fine,” Orlando said.</p><p>Lannie watched while Fen wrote messages on little slips of paper. Istvan wrote several as well. As each message was finished, Havel selected a pigeon from a cage, tied it to the bird’s leg, kissed the pigeon and tossed it into the air with sung prayers. No one else handled the pigeons. She’d never seen anything like it. It was a reminder of how primitive the Ennaretee was compared to the equator regions.</p><p>“How will pigeons carry messages without getting lost? How do they know where to go? And will this take long?” she asked while petting Brownie, keeping the dog reasonably quiet.</p><p>“You need to tell Miss Lannie more about us,” Istvan told Fen.</p><p>“Hadn’t come to this custom yet,” he admitted.</p><p>“Miss Lannie,” Istvan said. “Fen’s family will have the message by the end of the day if not sooner. We’re using several pigeons because sometimes they meet hawks and don’t make it home.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said and thought of how isolated her family was, living in the crumbling manor house on a decaying estate in the poorest, most isolated corner in DelFino. Letters took days just to get to Telduv. Charlton got along well with animals and he would be interested. She shook her head. Who would he write to with a pigeon? And he had other problems that mattered more than his runaway thief of a sister.</p><hr/><p>“Do you think they’re following us?” Lannie asked.</p><p>She was riding Coppertail, Fen on Tabasco, and Handsome carried the baggage, although not the Pearls of Orlov. Fen had, as soon as he was sure they were completely alone and unobserved, discreetly transferred the Pearls to Lannie’s saddlebags along with two waterskins, plenty of mil-rats, and her bedroll. While he reallocated baggage, she ruthlessly combed and braided her hair into submission. They were forging through the waist-high grasses into the east. The rise and fall of the steppes left the crew from Lynch far behind or so he hoped. The song of the steppes had returned — wind, insects, birds, little animals — indicating that no one was near them. Brownie didn’t think so either.</p><p>“I know they are,” Fen said. “You saw Havel and his cages? He’s an apprentice Pigeonmaster and he had cages marked with Lynch, Tanakada, and Schuster. Istvan and Kibo expect to travel for weeks and need to send messages home. I’m guessing that my aunt Sujatha called in favors with Lynch. I don’t recall exactly how she’s related to Orlando. I don’t trust them but I don’t distrust them either.”</p><p>“As long as they don’t learn about the Pearls.”</p><p>“Yeah. We’ll veer toward the Road and parallel it on the northern edge just out of sight. We’ll travel faster than we would on the wild steppes and it’ll be harder for them to ambush us.”</p><p>“So we can run into bandits chasing after huge rewards instead?” she asked with a smile.</p><p>He laughed. “I hope not! But I know the demesnes bordering this corridor do a decent job of patrolling. Even better, it looks like my folks have people watching out for us. I didn’t think they’d be so worried. They don’t know anything about you or the Pearls.”</p><p>“You haven’t told them?” Lannie demanded.</p><p>“Not about the Pearls. And —” he met her eyes. “— I didn’t want to raise hopes about you coming home with me in case you changed your mind. It’s got to be your free choice, coming to HighTower and marrying me.”</p><p>“The day after we arrive.”</p><p>“We could marry the day we arrive, but my mother will want to talk to you first. See if you agree. And she’ll want to get a feast laid out and as many people there as possible.” He smiled at her. “My mother will love you.”</p><p>“My mother would like you too but she won’t be there,” Lannie said wistfully.</p><p>“We’ll ask her to visit.” Fen grinned broadly. “We can afford it! Just as soon as we finish working out what to do with the Pearls.”</p><p>“If she’s still alive.”</p><p>“Have faith, Lannie. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but trust your brother and Ulla. Everything you said about them said they care deeply about you and your mother.”</p><p>“I suppose,” Lannie said.</p><p>Fen’s family had sent messages by pigeon to Lynch, looking out for him. What had mama, Charlton, Ulla, or even Walter done after daddy arranged her marriage to the daimyo of Orlov? Nothing, that’s what. She reminded herself she was being unfair. She didn’t know what they were doing and she wouldn’t know until she could write to them in person. They didn’t even know where she was, only where she had been.</p><p>“Trust me if you don’t trust them. You know what to do if we get separated,” Fen reminded her. “You’ve got what you need to reach HighTower. You’re sticking with Coppertail from here on out.”</p><p>“Does he know the way?”</p><p>“No, but he’s got HighTower’s brand and the closer we get to HighTower, the more that means. Stay on the road, don’t stop for any reason other than water and sleep, and head east. Brownie will wake you if someone comes near. Once you reach Robinsin, anyone can get you home.”</p><p>“As long as Orlov isn’t waiting for me.”</p><p>“My family will be looking for you. They’ll have people waiting. They know we’re coming.”</p><p>“Because of the pigeons?” She laughed at the absurdity of civilized people who could terraform a planet using birds to carry messages. But what else could you do when those Olde Earthe sods kept their technology tightly restricted?</p><p>“Because of the pigeons.”</p><p>He wouldn’t have trusted Lynch but he watched his messages get tied to pigeons headed for Schuster. Those pigeons wouldn’t fly anywhere else. Schuster was midway between Lynch and HighTower and he’d asked in his note that his message be forwarded to VanDenRooz. Pigeonmasters swore an oath of truth and fidelity to their god. Even if Lynch asked them to suppress his message, the Schuster Pigeonmaster would send it on rather than be forsworn. Then he would warn other PigeonMasters that Lynch was not to be trusted.</p><p>He leaned over and patted Brownie, safe in Lannie’s arms. “You were a very good dog, Brownie.” The dog gave him a smug look.</p><p>“Yes, she is,” Lannie said fondly.</p><hr/><p>“Orlando, did you notice that pair of belt knives Fen had?” Istvan asked. “They bother me.”</p><p>“Or were you too busy ogling Lannie’s hair,” Kibo added.</p><p>“I saw them,” Orlando said. “Creepy bone hilts and flashy scabbards. Some kind of embossing with bits of glass to make it sparkle.”</p><p>“Very good,” Istvan said. “Lads? I want everyone to think hard over exactly what those belt knives looked like. When we break, I want sketches. There’s something important about those knives, something I heard. We’ll send the information to Lynch so it can be researched.”</p><p>He turned back to Orlando. “You remember Ethan ever talking about Fen having special knives?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Orlando considered what he’d witnessed versus what Ethan told him. Fen hadn’t backed down when he’d been confronted by eight mounted men. He’d made it alive down to Barsoom, apparently conducted his business successfully, and came back with three horses when he’d only trekked to Barsoom with one. He’d located not just the cairn (which any competent gauchito could do) but the supply soddy (far more challenging). He’d acquired a dog. And a girl who had wanted posters tacked up from Barsoom to Northernmost with a huge reward on her head from some Equator demesne he’d never previously heard of in addition to what DelFino was offering. What was the likes of Fen Hightower doing with some runaway Equator princess who’d jilted the daimyo of Orlov? Idiot runts of the litter didn’t do any of that.</p><p>“Do you think that maybe Ethan might have been wrong about his brother?” he asked the group. He got the answer he was dreading. Nods all around along with those irritating glances and eyebrow waggles between Istvan and Kibo. They might as well proclaim to the steppes that he’d finally noticed what had sat right in front of him for weeks. Those glances said <em>he</em> was the idiot runt of the litter.</p><p>They rode along in silence, heading roughly back towards Lynch territory, when Orlando reined in his horse, bringing the troop to a halt. He caught the flash between Istvan and Kibo. They didn’t speak, waiting for him to open his mouth and make a fool of himself. Again. Was this how Fen HighTower felt all the time, knowing what his family thought of him as evidenced by his own brother’s words?</p><p>“I want to follow Fen and his girl,” Orlando announced. “Not so they can see us, I mean. To make sure nothing happens to them.”</p><p>“And why would you want to do that?” Istvan asked.</p><p>“I don’t know what the interim council told you,” Orlando said. “They told me that Winchester, Stilicho, and Cullen agreed to stay out of our business in Darnay and claim they didn’t know anything about Fen or his girl to outsiders. But they didn’t agree to anything else. That reward on Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino is tempting and all of them might send some Hands out after it.”</p><p>“Good thinking, Orlando,” Istvan said.</p><p>“Don’t act so surprised,” he replied sourly. “I can think.”</p><p>“Sometimes. Go on.”</p><p>“Fen can think. Our people never saw him after he left the post office. He didn’t head east, like would be logical.”</p><p>“He zagged instead of zigged, yeah?” Kibo commented.</p><p>“Yeah. But he has to return to HighTower and by now, with too many people looking for him, he can’t risk veering all over creation. Those wanted posters must be in every waystation and post office and official bulletin board in the Ennaretee as well as all the way up to Northernmost. If Hikaru and Bryant Jones were looking for them, then so are plenty of other outlaws.”</p><p>“This is true,” Istvan said.</p><p>“We were wondering when you’d reach this conclusion,” Kibo said easily. “Istvan and me were expecting to have to bring it up ourselves.”</p><p>“He is a relative of mine,” Orlando replied. “I do have some family feeling despite what you may think after what we’ve been going through for last few years.”</p><p>“We’re glad the family is finally settling their differences,” Istvan said. “Fighting among yourselves doesn’t strengthen the demesne.”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t.”</p><p>“Those Olde Earthe bastards will come back, Orlando. They’ll take over the equator first but they won’t ignore us,” Kibo added. “They’ll arrive at our door to enslave us all. If the family’s not ready, neither are we.”</p><p>“So we go after them?” Orlando asked.</p><p>“After we pick up the rest of our crew and the dogs. We’ll shadow them to HighTower and discover what’s really going on.”</p><p>A few minutes later, Istvan stopped and stood in the saddle, alert to what the wind was telling him.</p><p>“The weather is shifting. Cold coming down from the north.”</p><hr/><p>“More mail, Borden,” Paroo said. She held out a sheaf of letters. “And a message from Fen via VanDenRooz. He met up with Lynch’s people and he’s on his way.”</p><p>“With that girl Gussert mentioned?”</p><p>“Yes, with that girl. Lannie.”</p><hr/><p>So Millicent Avongale had deliberately lied to her when she claimed she had no information to pass along about the Ennaretee, no connections, no correspondents. It wasn’t a surprise, Ulla thought with intense irritation. Millicent wanted what was best for Avongale and Ulla’s own needs didn’t enter into the equation and wouldn’t until <em>after</em> she married Silas Avongale.</p><p>Millicent <em>Gish</em> Avongale. Born and raised in Gish, whose demesne was located right on the border between the Ennagzee and the Ennaretee. Gish, next to Shelleen, actively working with the Ennaretee demesnes directly north of them because of Shelleen’s Red Mercury Mine. Gish, which just happened to border the government corridor that led from Nourz to Panschin, the same corridor that went right past HighTower, along with transporting waves of foot traffic, passenger and freight trains.</p><p>It was her own damn fault, too. She hadn’t asked Millicent’s antecedents to trace out the family relationships. After she married in, she’d have to be polite to that woman for the rest of her life. Millicent Gish Avongale, who knew Ottilie Avongale DelFino very, very well. Ulla had to wonder how much Millicent and Ottilie told each other. Ottilie stopped being loyal to Avongale when she married into DelFino but relationships were never cut. Those relationships bound demesnes together in complex webs of business deals, information, and favors.</p><p>And now that she’d formally agreed to marry Silas in front of his family, Millicent suddenly burst forth with information that would have saved months of aggravation and grief.</p><p>Millicent Gish Avongale had even arranged for letters of introduction from Gish that Silas could use to get them into HighTower. How long had she had those letters waiting in some drawer?</p><p>“You’ll need these, my dear,” she’d cooed to Ulla when she’d handed them over at the Renolds train station for the journey eastward. “HighTower is refusing to admit anyone who’s from DelFino or Orlov or anywhere, really, without acceptable bona fides. Borden HighTower can be stubborn and dear Zachery infuriated him years ago. They won’t let you in if they think you’re his emissary.”</p><p>Which was why Ulla and Silas spent days on a train to Purnell and then went to Gish for a visit with distant relatives. Millicent wanted more than Silas becoming daimyo of Avongale. She wanted Avongale to take the lead in Ennagzee politics and how better to start Silas on his way than a triumphant visit to distant relatives — with his DelFino princess of a fiancée — being introduced to many of the important people in the eastern half of the Ennagzee?</p><p>It was a masterstroke on Millicent’s part, really. And it got her, Ulla had to admit, what she wanted. Access to HighTower and a chance to rescue Lannie. She met a host of people, added enormously to her correspondence list, and learned a great deal about how much the demesnes of the Ennagzee resented the Hot Zone aristocracy. It was all fascinating and it all took so damned much time but they finally left Gish, traveled back to Purnell, and then took the train to the next free-city north.</p><p>Which was Robinsin. Surrounded by the demesnes of HighTower, VanDenRooz, Winzlow, and Aguillero.</p><p>Robinsin, tiny but growing because it was conveniently located between Purnell, close to Shelleen’s Red Mercury Lode, and the domed city of Panschin. Panschin, the biggest city on Mars other than Barsoom, where apparently, the citizens subsisted on mold scraped out of tanks. The daimyo of Shelleen had recently discovered this and was going to make Shelleen, Gish, and the surrounding demesnes rich by shipping agricultural products and livestock to Panschin.</p><p>Silas had filled her to the brim with details about Airik Shelleen, the youngest daimyo Shelleen ever had and already the best. He had been thrilled to meet Airik Shelleen and his fiancée at a ball Gish threw to introduce them to their ninesquare.</p><p>“He’s my competition,” Silas told her afterwards on the train north. “If he decides to run the entire Ennagzee, in addition to Shelleen and the eastern half, he’s practically already elected.”</p><p>“Gleesh,” Ulla said. “That competent?”</p><p>“By all the gods of the harvest, yes,” Silas gushed. “And he’s only a few years older than I am! And the adventures he had in Panschin with <em>his</em> fiancée! Did you read that framed newspaper story? Unbelievable.”</p><hr/><p>The train pulled into the Robinsin train station in the middle of the night. The sleepy porter (there was only one) waiting for them got Ulla, Silas, their servants, and the baggage loaded up and off to the only hotel in Robinsin. From the porter’s glowing description, it was larger than the hotel in Merreth, all those months ago.</p><p>“We’ll be sharing, my darling,” Silas said with a smile.</p><p>“Yeah,” Ulla said. It would be fun. Silas was always fun in bed and she’d signed up for marrying him so she wasn’t going to stop now that they were on the verge of locating Lannie.</p><p>She stared around at the dark buildings huddled together on the windswept steppes. She’d never seen a town so badly lit or such deserted streets. The north wind cut through her coat and she shivered, edging closer to Silas and his body heat.</p><p>“Is it always this cold?” Ulla asked. Lannie must be freezing, wherever she is, she thought. “Will it get warmer?”</p><p>“It should,” Silas said. “Good thing we’re sharing. Are you sure you don’t want me to buy you furs, my darling?”</p><p>“After the wedding, Silas, and only if it turns out I need them,” Ulla said. “Avongale is much further south than Robinsin and HighTower.”</p><p>“You are so practical. You will be the best daimyah Avongale has ever had.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Ulla said, wishing she had something more imaginative or loving to say.</p><p>“Are you?” Silas asked carefully.</p><p>“My late flowers are done,” she replied with mixed feelings. She wasn’t pregnant. Were they infertile? Was she infertile? Did she want to have a baby right away? She’d be tied to Silas forever if she was. But she wasn’t. That was good. Except it might mean she was infertile, a fear she’d had for several years. She’d never gotten past late flowers. She was the only child of her mother, who lived fast and loose, another bad sign.</p><p>Ulla sighed.</p><p>“It’s early days yet,” Silas said, correctly interpreting her mood. He shivered as the wind picked up and wrapped a warm arm around her in the regrettably open wagon bumping down the dark streets of Robinsin to the hotel. It was the only lit building.</p><p>“We could have gotten there faster if we’d walked,” Ulla grumbled. “And it would have been warmer.”</p><p>The Robinsin hotel lobby was, thankfully, much warmer than the outside, draft-free, and brightly lit.</p><p>“It’s a good thing you had reservations, my lord Avongale,” the night desk clerk said. “We’ve filled up.”</p><p>“Really?” Silas asked. “I don’t mean to be rude but I didn’t realize that Robinsin was so busy. People on their way to Panschin?”</p><p>“No, my lord.” The night clerk beamed at them. “We’ve actually got the daimyo of DelFino staying with us with his entourage and the daimyo of Orlov with his! They arrived on yesterday’s train.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Silas and Ulla looked at each other, then back at the desk clerk.</p><p>“Do you know why they’re here?” Ulla asked tentatively. You never knew when a desk clerk would remember he was supposed to be discreet about the other guests and she didn’t dare waste what little coin she had left.</p><p>“Fenrick HighTower and his Barsoom street girl is the gossip, my lady,” the clerk confided. “They’ve got wanted posters tacked up all over the post office, the sheriff’s office, and Internal Security. No one can decide if his Barsoom street girl is really Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino although the posters certainly make it seem so. It’s very unlikely in my opinion, Yilanda DelFino being an Equator princess and he’s Ennaretee. On the other hand, why would DelFino and Orlov be here if it isn’t true? Anyway, HighTower is refusing to allow access to anyone and so are the other three demesnes and that’s why both daimyos are staying here.”</p><p>“What a good thing I’ve already got my introductions and made arrangements with the livery stable,” Silas commented with a complacent smile.</p><p>“Will we see them at breakfast?” Ulla asked.</p><p>“Yes, my lady. We’ve called in extra help so no worries, you won’t go hungry,” the clerk told them.</p><p>“Good to know,” Silas said.</p><p>Once they were inside their room (small but warm and spotless) he said, “Ulla, what is going on that Zachery would travel all the way here and not be permitted entrance into HighTower as would be expected? I refuse to believe that old roué, Rastislav, is that desperate to marry Lannie. He saw her at the cathedral for what, five minutes before she ran for it?”</p><p>“Something like that,” Ulla said, a hunted look on her face.</p><p>“I would like you to tell me what’s really going on.”</p><p>“I swore I wouldn’t say anything, Silas. When I can, I will,” she promised him. “But not until then.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Remember that kidnapping, even of runaway risto brides, is against the law.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silas yawned and stretched and wrapped himself around Ulla.</p><p>“We could have breakfast in bed, my darling,” he breathed into her ear.</p><p>“This hotel doesn’t provide room service,” she replied. “I asked.”</p><p>“We’ll send down my valet or Natha.”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Ulla said. She sat up and began absently gnawing on a newly healed fingernail until Silas pulled her hand away from her mouth.</p><p>“You’re upset. Lannie’s disappearance has been eating at you again. The dining room would mean confronting either Zachery or Orlov. Do you want to do that?” The concern in his voice and cool gray eyes was very real.</p><p>She slumped back against Silas.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>She sat back up.</p><p>“Yes. Maybe I can learn something to help Lannie. I think Zachery started steaming open my mail, did I tell you that? The envelopes don’t look quite right when they arrive and the delivery dates aren’t in line with the postmarks. He doesn’t have Lannie’s best interests at heart and he never did and I don’t believe him when he claims everything he does is for the benefit of DelFino. Dimitri will beat Lannie to death if he gets a chance. You remember what he was like with that postal clerk in Merreth and he’ll do worse to Lannie.”</p><p>“Great gods of the harvest,” Silas said. “Whatever’s going on, I’ll be at your side. When we find Lannie and we will find her, I’ll welcome her to Avongale.”</p><p>“Would you?” Ulla asked, her eyes wide. She’d never thought to ask. Another thing she’d done wrong.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Two DelFino princesses in Avongale, Silas thought with joy. One of his many cousins would be delighted to marry Yilanda Ranaglia DelFino, no matter what she’d been doing since fleeing the cathedral. Or whom, simply because of the cachet of a Hot Zone princess in the provinces. DelFino would come around, eventually, and support Lannie because to do otherwise would mean losing face. A connection to Ranaglia was equally valuable since that demesne was a powerful member of the western half of the Ennagzee and up till now, they’d considered Avongale to be unimportant yokels.</p><p>His smile widened. “We would be delighted to welcome Lannie into Avongale.”</p><p>“That’s wonderful,” Ulla said with relief. “Lannie can’t go home.”</p><p>I’m missing something, she thought. Silas is really good at politics and advance planning and he wouldn’t invite Lannie just because of me.</p><p>“Why would you do this?”</p><p>“To please you. You don’t ask for anything that isn’t practical and what you need, you take care of yourself.” Silas leaned in for another kiss. “I can give you safe harbor for Lannie.” Also true and almost as important.</p><p>Ulla found herself relaxing into his arms. This marriage could work, she thought with relief. I never thought of that reason, but he did. He noticed.</p><p>“So breakfast?”</p><p>“Downstairs, in the dining room,” Ulla said cheerfully. “But first, us.” She kissed him and he returned her kisses with enthusiasm.</p><hr/><p>The maître d’ invited Silas and Ulla into the dining room. It was instantly apparent that the large room had been divided into warring camps. Zachery DelFino held court in the front half of the room, enjoying the morning sunshine streaming in through the windows. He and his personal aides shared a table while the rest of his servants took another. A moat of table-free space surrounded them. Orlov took the shadowy back half; one table for Dimitri, Rastislav, and Albion, and a second for servants inside another moat of empty space. A no man’s land spanned the middle of the room. The tables there were occupied by what appeared to be a wide selection of the citizens of Robinsin, enjoying a rare opportunity to watch aristocrats from the Hot Zone and speculate in low tones while tablehopping.</p><p>“I suggest this table,” the maître d’ (and owner of the hotel) said after surveying the room and parsing out the status rankings. He pulled a table slightly away from no man’s land into a pool of sunshine equidistant between DelFino and Orlov. He’d never heard of Avongale until the reservations arrived but he did know Gish and Shelleen. Their people had started passing through Robinsin on their way to Panschin; sometimes, they even stopped to do business and spend money in the tiny free-city. He couldn’t afford to offend anyone connected to them.</p><p>DelFino and Orlov, on the other hand, brought up unpleasant memories and pointed reminders of why he and his extended family had fled the Hot Zone decades ago to homestead as far north as they could while still being able to tolerate the winter. Their respective daimyos’ behavior at his hotel did not improve his opinion.</p><p>“Silas?” Ulla whispered. “Excuse me.”</p><p>She marched over to Zachery, who’d been pointedly ignoring them.</p><p>“What are you planning on doing about Lannie?” Ulla asked, pitching her voice at its screechiest and aiming a sharp fingertip at his heart like a dagger. She’d learned the value of drama all those months ago from Albion, that rotted ham. It worked too. Everyone in the dining room perked up and paid attention, including the staff.</p><p>“Welcome her back to the family with open arms? Well? I’m waiting.” She crossed her arms and loudly tapped a foot.</p><p>“Dear Ulla,” Zachery said urbanely, folding the pitifully thin excuse for a newspaper and setting it beside his plate. It was a weekly, making it even more obvious he was stuck at the end of Mars. “I was so pleased to hear you finally did your duty to DelFino and Avongale and accepted Silas’s proposal. I was beginning to fear you took after your mother.”</p><p>White-hot fury washed over her. She leaned over and hissed, but not so low that Zachery’s aides wouldn’t hear her, “I will do my level best to make you fail to catch Lannie, fail to acquire you-know-what, <em>and</em> lose the upcoming election for daimyo. Don’t think I can’t? Just you wait.”</p><p>“Silas,” Zachery said in a longsuffering voice, “do remind your bride-to-be that Avongale needs to work with every member of the Conclave and not just its local quad of provincial farmers.”</p><p>“My lord Zachery,” Silas showed his teeth. “I remember every day what it’s like to work with Hot Zone ristos.”</p><p>Ulla turned her attention to the other half of the dining room.</p><p>“Hello Dimitri,” she called across the room and marched toward his table, the gossip from Robinsin’s citizens rising and falling like waves as she passed their tables.</p><p>She stopped just out of arm’s reach, giving him the same dagger-like finger.</p><p>“I heard that you’re going barking mad. Beating up Rastislav, your daimyo? He deserves it for beating up prostitutes, his wives, and then murdering his third wife but even so, he’s still a decrepit geezer. What are you going to do to Lannie? Beat her to death?” She pitched her voice to be heard by everyone in the room.</p><p>“You are a vicious harpy,” Dimitri growled. “I pray that after you geld that moronic yokel you’re marrying, he beats you into submission. That’s the only way you’ll learn how a proper wife behaves.”</p><p>Silas leaned over and said, “A man who can’t control himself isn’t much of a man. Following in the sot’s footsteps already? So sad.”</p><p>“I am not a sot,” Rastislav snarled. A bruise smeared his cheek and he sported a cast on his wrist and a burgundy velvet sling embroidered with pearls forming the Orlov sigil.</p><p>“Yes, you are,” a chorus of voices answered from the back and the front of the dining room. He sank back into his chair, his face a rictus of fury. He massaged his abdomen and thought longingly of decanters brimming full of sweet red wine. Madame Orlov’s enraged face rose before him and he shuddered and awkwardly sipped sweet hot tea as a consolation prize.</p><p>“And as for you, Albion,” Ulla asked sweetly and loudly. “Are you enjoying your stay in the Orlov townhouse? If Dimitri’s beating you, he’s making sure the bruises won’t show. Or is he saving you for Goryonov’s thugs? They told me all about the punishment they plan for you. It’s gruesome and you deserve it for what you did to your daughter and your wife.”</p><p>“You speak to that sort of person?” Albion asked, nose in the air, the very image of a patrician gentleman down on his luck but still adhering to the most refined standards of behavior. “How gauche.”</p><p>“I talk to everyone and you wouldn’t believe the stories they told me about you,” Ulla retorted. “Your affairs? Your gambling? Your bad management of your estates? Your terrible acting?”</p><p>Albion leaped to his feet in outrage. “I am a wonderful actor! You are not just a harpy. You are an insensitive philistine.”</p><p>Silas waded back in. “Dimitri, pass this on to the triumvirate. I’m buying up Orlov debt.”</p><p>Dimitri bared his teeth. “You do that, moron. Everything you do shows you to be a moron, starting with marrying the harpy.”</p><p>“I am not a harpy!” Ulla screamed. “And if I am, then remember what harpies do. We point out sin and evil and you three are <em>evil</em>.”</p><p>Zachery came up behind her.</p><p>“This is all very amusing but do try to moderate your tone in front of the locals, Ulla. We are all stuck here, together, in this wretched hotel at the end of Mars until we are able to rescue Yilanda from that savage. None of us are allowed access to HighTower to save her.”</p><p>Silas wrapped an arm around Ulla and chuckled agreeably. “Wise counsel, my lord Zachery. Shall we dine, my darling?”</p><p>Zachery returned to his table, successfully ignoring the presence of the Orlov contingent and the agog citizens of Robinsin.</p><p>“Not yet,” Ulla said. “Dimitri? Where is John RedHawk? Did he and Mr. Parminder finally decide to quit working for vicious abusive failures who can’t pay their bills?”</p><p>The hovering maître d’ audibly sucked in his breath. His expression as he surveyed the Orlov contingent was clear: bills would now be paid on a daily basis or they would be evicted to sleep out on the steppes and eat the grass. They got the message as did everyone else in the dining room.</p><p>“You’ll find out,” Dimitri said. He viciously slashed his knife into a slab of nearly raw meat, hacking it into bite-size pieces. Bloody juices ran across the plate into the mess of stewed grains. He began shoveling food in with speed and concentration.</p><p>“Breakfast sounds lovely, Silas,” Ulla said. She wrinkled her nose. “Your table manners are so much better than Dimitri’s. Ick.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Silas said, looking askance at the sloppy inroads Dimitri was making into his high-heaped plate. “Although that isn’t hard.”</p><p>They ambled back to their table and the waiter left soon thereafter with their order.</p><p>“Do you want to tell them that we have letters of admittance?” Ulla asked in a low voice. Her eyes danced.</p><p>“Why?” Silas answered. “Let them stew in Robinsin and find out for themselves. In the meantime, they’ll spend plenty of coin which I’m sure the locals need.”</p><p>“I hope I haven’t messed up Avongale’s ability to negotiate legislation in the Conclave.”</p><p>“Zachery isn’t a fool and neither is Orlov’s triumvirate,” Silas said confidently. “Whatever is going on won’t last forever. It’s true that the Hot Zone is the largest individual zone on Mars. However, in aggregate, we of the agricultural, ranching, and mining zones in the northern hemisphere almost equal them. Add in the southern hemisphere and we have the majority vote in the Conclave. Zachery and the rest of the Hot Zone daimyos work very hard to make everyone else on Mars despise them which is remarkably stupid. Since they are not stupid, they will recall those facts.”</p><p>“It is stupid, isn’t it,” Ulla said pensively. “Fighting among ourselves when Olde Earth will return to enslave us all.”</p><p>“Exactly. They’ll come to their senses.”</p><p>The door to the dining room opened, allowing a whoosh of cold air and two strangers. Ulla stared openly.</p><p>“Are they Ennaretee?” she asked Silas. “Gleesh. Look at that hair. And those beards. And their hair is full of beads!”</p><p>“Yes,” Silas answered. “They’re striking. A few steps removed from savagery but very skilled with livestock. Airik Shelleen told me about their soil management techniques. I plan on asking plenty of questions when we’re in HighTower. I want to open negotiations with the Ennaretee daimyos closest to Avongale and see if I can institute a similar program.”</p><p>“That’s practical of you,” Ulla said. “What do you suppose they want?”</p><p>“Breakfast, Ulla.”</p><p>“Oh. Right.”</p><p>The two strangers spoke briefly to the maître d’ and then swaggered over to Ulla and Silas. All eyes were upon them and every ear listened.</p><p>“You Silas Avongale?” the taller one asked. His loose, waist-length hair sported enough beads to make it rattle and click with the slightest movement.</p><p>“I am,” Silas said. He rose. “May I present my fiancée, Lady Ulla.”</p><p>“Pleasure to meet you, my lady. I’m Dawud, Hand of HighTower.” Dawud openly gave Ulla an approving once over. Silas wanted to frown but he’d been told to expect this kind of behavior from Steppes Riders.</p><p>“Kavan, Hand of HighTower, my lady,” the second man said. He also gave Ulla a look of open admiration. Silas wanted to frown harder, but he needed these savages for many reasons. “Soon as you finish eating, we’re here to escort you to HighTower.”</p><p>“What?” Zachery roared, on his feet. He was echoed by Dimitri Orlov, also on his feet.</p><p>Silas said, “would you gentlemen join us for breakfast? My darling Ulla and I know very little about HighTower and would appreciate anything you can share.”</p><p>“Sure,” Dawud said, taking another look around the dining room. He paused at the DelFino and Orlov tables and curled his lip. He exchanged glances with Kavan.</p><p>“A pleasure,” Kavan added as they seated themselves. A waiter scurried up to take orders.</p><p>“Zachery? Dimitri?” Silas called out across the clatter and hum of the dining room. “Try to remember that we provincial farmers stick together. Gish was kind enough to arrange letters of admittance, as was Shelleen.”</p><p>“I think you spoiled their breakfast,” Ulla said, watching Zachery’s face tighten with rage. Dimitri looked ready to shatter plates, as did the sot. Albion was more interesting. Something else flashed across his face before he assumed the correct expression.</p><p>“Yes, I think so too,” Silas replied with a grin. “Whereas ours improved.”</p><hr/><p>“We’ve done everything we can,” Iolanthe said. “It’s up to Ulla now.”</p><p>“I hope so,” Charlton growled. “Damn Zachery. He can traipse off to HighTower despite everything that needs his attention in DelFino. Does he really think that Lannie will run to him with arms full of Pearls and beg for sanctuary?”</p><p>“It would seem so,” Iolanthe said. She sniffed.</p><p>“We have to vote for that bastard in the upcoming election,” Charlton fumed. “If I want to get the rest of the quadrant settled for the benefit of my own people. Damnation.”</p><p>“I wish I knew where Dimitri was,” Iolanthe said, tapping her pen against her pad. “Auntie Quintana didn’t say in her last letter.”</p><p>“Probably still in Barsoom, overseeing the selling of everything in the Orlov townhouse that’s worth a few pennies,” Charlton said. “That’s what I’d be doing. Assuming she’s still alive, Lannie will never go near Orlov or DelFino again. And if she’s dead somewhere between Darnay and HighTower, the Pearls are gone for good.”</p><p>“Have faith, my darling,” Iolanthe said.</p><hr/><p>Lannie shivered and huddled closer to Fen. They’d made good time toward the 50° road after meeting Orlando Lynch and his Hands. Then the weather turned on them, the temperature dropping like a stone. Fen had made camp early for the night to find a better campsite, hidden from the road and protected from the north wind. The stony hill blocked the wind and the dense layer of terraformers coating added a layer of insulation but it was still cold. She was wearing every layer of clothing she had and so was he. Brownie snuggled up between them. The three horses huddled close by, also sheltering from the wind. They kept each other warm.</p><p>“Isn’t it supposed to be summer up here?” she asked, teeth chattering.</p><p>“Early days,” Fen said. “But Summer can be capricious and here’s proof. But yeah, this is unusual. I’m darn glad you got those extra supplies from Mr. Obermatt.”</p><p>“I wish I’d gotten a full-body parka,” Lannie mumbled. The tiny fire didn’t put out enough warmth, but it did allow for hot tea. She drank the steaming liquid gratefully, in between gnawing on mil-rats. Oddly, the cold improved their taste.</p><p>“It’ll be a long night for everyone,” Fen said. “But look on the bright side. If Lynch, or anyone else is following us, they’re hunkered down too. We’ll start early and outrun them.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said, thinking wistfully of warm beds and toasty fires. If this was cold, how cold would Northernmost have been? She shivered again and squeezed closer.</p><p>Dawn did not bring warmth. Fen didn’t waste time on a fire. They broke camp and fled into the rising sun, gnawing on mil-rats and drinking icy water to wash them down. It was chilling but he insisted, not wanting to delay as they got closer to HighTower.</p><p>They stopped for water when a waystation finally appeared. His caution proved necessary. He left Lannie and Brownie hidden on the south side of the low hills surrounding the waystation and the Road. The bulletin board was plastered with wanted posters for her and him. Fortunately, in the Ennaretee, he looked normal; bundled up in wool, a scruffy beard, and a long braid of hair. He worked as fast as he could, getting water and taking care of the horses and then rode west and looped back around to find Lannie again.</p><p>“I expected you to come back more directly. Were you followed?”</p><p>“No, but I listened to the waystation keeper talk. There’s people out looking for us. I know I said we’d travel north of the Road. Instead, we’ll vary each day, appearing and disappearing on the road and when we’re off the road, we’ll stay south of it. When we reach TOWN-NAME-HERE, we’ll head north again and cut across to VanDenRooz. Once we’re inside their borders, we’re safe.”</p><p>“You talked to the waystation keeper?” she asked in horror.</p><p>“He didn’t recognize me covered up and they expect people to chat.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Lannie said. “Won’t these people after us follow us into VanDenRooz? Especially if that waystation keeper gossips about you?”</p><p>Fen grinned. “They can try. But if they’re seen, they’ll have trouble. We won’t.”</p><p>“Will you be recognized?”</p><p>“I know all the Hands of VanDenRooz. If Lynch was looking for us with one crew, then VanDenRooz will have everyone out.”</p><hr/><p>“A visitor for you, Mr. RedHawk,” one of the members of his new local crew said. John RedHawk raised himself in the saddle, more comfortable on a horse than he’d ever been in his entire life. He’d been practicing far more than he’d wanted since arriving in Robinsin and setting up camp to await the arrival of Yilanda DelFino and Fenrick HighTower. They had to travel this way to reach his demesne or travel hundreds more klicks out of the way. He was expecting to chase them on horseback, perish the thought. He absently rubbed his complaining lower back and then realized he knew his visitor.</p><p>“Your horsemanship is improving, RedHawk,” Major Achebe said as he rode up, looking far more expert at riding than RedHawk did. “I heard about your visit to Darnay.”</p><p>RedHawk groaned. “Lt. Smythe briefed you.”</p><p>“Naturally.”</p><p>“Isn’t this region out of your jurisdiction?”</p><p>“Perhaps not,” Major Achebe said. “We received a credible report that a suspect in one of our investigations fled here. I’ve got three pairs of empty boots and I know where two of the bodies that wore those boots are. The owner of my third pair of empty boots is still missing.”</p><p>“Any connection to my quarry?” RedHawk asked suspiciously.</p><p>“I seriously doubt it,” Major Achebe lied smoothly. “But it was most fortuitous when my case and yours collided again. I had wondered how you were doing and I could not miss the chance to apply the hot iron of the law to a Hot Zone risto. The thought thrills me as it does headquarters. And so, here I am.”</p><p>RedHawk laughed. “Yes, I can imagine your superiors were thrilled. Did Lt. Smythe tell you about those highhanded fools from DelFino?”</p><p>“He did indeed. They paid many fines into Darnay’s treasury. It was most appreciated.”</p><p>“I am not going to help you prosecute my clients,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“I do not expect you to,” Major Achebe said. “You have been cooperative and stay within the confines of the law and so we do not expect to be troubled by Orlov. However, as it turns out, the daimyo of DelFino himself is in Robinsin. I am guessing, as is headquarters, that he will attempt to remain above the law and so more DelFino coin will flow into the local treasury.”</p><p>RedHawk laughed heartily. “If I hear something illegal, I’ll update you immediately. If DelFino gets to Miss Yilanda first, my client loses so it’s in my best interests as well as yours.”</p><p>“Most excellent,” Major Achebe said. “Would you show me around? I may have suggestions.”</p><p>RedHawk thought of how little he and Mr. Parminder had understood Fenrick HighTower and Ennaretee culture and said “Yes. I would be honored.”</p><p>“I will start with news. The four demesnes, as you probably already know, are not permitting any outside visitors.”</p><p>“Yes, I knew that.”</p><p>“But if that visitor has proper credentials, then they might allow that person access and so today, a lord Silas Avongale and his fiancée are on their way to HighTower for a business-related visit. The fiancée is a hot, outspoken blonde. Your mouth is hanging open.”</p><p>“Damnation,” RedHawk said.</p><p>“The credentials were, according to my informant on the Robinsin Hotel dining room staff, via Gish and Shelleen, nearby Ennagzee powers. The lordling from Avongale, while from the other side of Mars, is nonetheless closely related to Gish and thus more distantly to Shelleen. You seem … frustrated may not be the correct word to describe what you are feeling.”</p><p>RedHawk groaned. “I’ve met lord Silas Avongale and I know his fiancée better than I’d like to. Outspoken is a kind description. She’s Ulla Tisdale DelFino.”</p><p>Major Achebe laughed. “So, a DelFino slips into HighTower despite their precautions. Do you wish to inform them?”</p><p>RedHawk closed his eyes in pain. “They won’t believe <em>me</em>, causing trouble over a relative however distant and his hot, blonde fiancée. It’s too late by now anyway so let it go. If I know Ulla DelFino, she’ll tell them herself after she browbeats them into submission.”</p><p>“It would not have mattered,” Major Achebe reassured him. “Due to the circumstances, HighTower might have refused Avongale despite his bona fides. The hot blonde fiancée, although none of you knew this fact, was his trump card. No Ennaretee demesne would deny a young lady — even one from DelFino — when she is standing on their border asking for admittance. She might change her mind, abandon her fiancé, and marry one of their own young men.”</p><p>“Not her,” RedHawk snorted. “Ulla DelFino does her duty, no matter what it costs her personally or anyone else. I appreciate the information. My quarry may be willing to speak with her cousin Ulla and that will allow me to approach her myself.”</p><p>“If you do, remember that kidnapping, even of runaway risto brides, is against the law and I will arrest you if it proves necessary,” Major Achebe said.</p><p>“I don’t plan on kidnapping Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk lied.</p><hr/><p>The days were endless. They stopped only for sleep, water, and to switch horses, although Lannie stayed with Coppertail. Fen kept to a brisk, ground-covering pace, faster on the road and slower when they threaded through the steppes south of the road and unseen. He prayed regularly their good luck would continue.</p><p>Their speed and varying their route seemed to be working. Although they were noticed when on the road, no one pursued. They were not ambushed when forging a path through the steppes parallel to the road.</p><p>They made the final turn to the north at TOWN NAME HERE, after circling round the southern side of the tiny free-city to confuse any possible pursuers. The weather had shifted again, warming at last to show that Summer had made up her mind and it was time for her to begin her reign and oust her capricious sister, Spring. Fen chose a moment when no one was in sight on the road and they bolted across it, crossed the multiple sets of train tracks and headed north into the ocean of grass.</p><p>As they rode, Lannie twisted and looked behind her. They left a trail in the waist-high grass, beaten down by the horses’ hooves and pushed aside by their bodies.</p><p>“I can see this trail, Fen,” she called to him. He was just ahead on Tabasco, Handsome on his lead.</p><p>“I know,” he called back. The grass should spring back within a few hours.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><hr/><p>“Where the hellation do you think they went?” Orlando Lynch asked.</p><p>“Toward HighTower,” Istvan answered. “Like them, we’ll keep heading east. They’re not invisible so we’ll spot them or their trail.”</p><p>“I dunno,” Orlando said. “Ethan Hightower was wrong about his brother. Fen is capable. Sometimes he’s on the road, then he disappears, then he’s back. But we’re not seeing any traces of him paralleling the road on the north side like would be expected.”</p><p>A few minutes later, the answer struck Orlando and both Hands of Lynch.</p><p>“Because he’s traveling out of sight off the southern side of the road,” they chorused.</p><p>Istvan asked “You still want to follow them all the way to HighTower?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Orlando said after a few moments of thought.</p><p>He caught another of those annoying, unspoken glances between Istvan and Kibo.</p><p>“I want to see this through. We’re having trouble following Fen because he zagged instead of zigged but someone else might get lucky. He’s still a relative and that girl of his has got a big enough reward on her to make anyone salivate. She must have done something to make Orlov go barking mad besides jilting their daimyo. None of this makes any sense.”</p><p>“Very good,” Istvan said with open approval. Kibo nodded.</p><p>“Besides,” Orlando added with a lusty smile and a wink. “HighTower will offer hospitality. Plus, I’ll get to tell Ethan HighTower he was wrong about his brother being the runt of the litter.”</p><hr/><p>“At last,” Ulla said to Silas on the afternoon of the day after they left Robinsin with Dawud and Kavan. “This place is as isolated as Charlton’s estates in the far reaches of DelFino. I thought he was unique until I went to Avongale and then Gish with you. And now this.” She glanced around at the endless, uniform ocean of grass cloaking identical rolling hills. Despite hours of riding, the landscape never varied that she could tell.</p><p>“It’s how most more remote demesnes are organized, my darling,” he said. “The corner closest to the quad free-city gets the manor house and the largest village. Few of us are populous enough to completely settle up to our boundaries and even fewer of us can afford private railways connecting our main settlement and the nearest free-city.”</p><p>“I wonder what the family will be like,” she said and lifted a hand to her mouth. Only her riding gloves were saving her fingernails. She and Silas had ridden most of the way to the consternation of Dawud and Kavan. Apparently, they’d expected that visitors from so far away would ride in the moth-eaten carriage or in one of the open wagons. Ulla had inspected the offered vehicles with a critical eye, then picked out a pleasant-tempered, sturdy mare from the livery stable as had Silas. The servants and the luggage rode in the wagons.</p><p>Her riding clothes of fitted pants and jacket in DelFino colors and her hair braided into long, swinging blonde loops had also drawn all eyes from HighTower’s vassals and, even more strangely, flying, gesturing hands.</p><p>“They’re talking with their hands,” Silas told her when she commented on it.</p><p>“That’s a language?” Courtesy of DelFino’s stablehands, she knew a variety of rude hand gestures and cruder words and Barsoom’s prostitutes had taught her more, but this seemed very different.</p><p>“Yes, quite complex with its own syntax and grammar. Airik Shelleen told me about handtalk. He’s been trying to learn it as the Ennaretee folks he works with use it to talk among themselves in front of him while keeping what they’re saying private. He’d like to know what they’re saying.”</p><p>“Will he tell them he understands them?”</p><p>“No, my darling. That would defeat the point.”</p><p>“That seems underhanded,” Ulla commented.</p><p>“Welcome to politics, my darling,” Silas said. “Ah! We’re nearing the manor house at last. What a pile of stone. I wonder if the family is large enough occupy the entire building.”</p><p>“I don’t know. Evelyn Ozigbow wrote me pages and pages, but she left a lot of holes.”</p><p>“We’ll find out,” Silas said cheerfully. “I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve ever had before.” He thought, I’ll have even more fun when you tell me why Orlov and DelFino are running barking mad over Lannie. It can’t be just her jilting the sot. What did Lannie do? This information must be priceless and could prove very, very useful in future Conclave negotiations.</p><hr/><p>The manor house of HighTower was, Ulla was relieved to see, built in the normal style. It was huge, stone, several stories high, and built with two wings surrounding a wide, paved plaza. The building faced south, allowing the sun to warm the plaza all year round. A row of trees edged the plaza, their new leaves slowly taking on the deeper greens of summer. They’d provide welcome shade as summer finally warmed up. Most importantly, it was a real house of the kind she expected and not a tent.</p><p>A family delegation waited for them on the broad steps leading to the massive front doors. Silas dismounted, tossed the reins to a servant, and helped her down. He gave her a quick kiss while doing so.</p><p>Introductions were made, one name after another. She and Silas had previously agreed that she’d use the name Ulla Tisdale and drop DelFino for the visit. It wasn’t a full-fledged lie, but it was a necessary one. HighTower might have still permitted Silas to enter their demesne but they’d have kept her out.</p><p>Once inside, they moved into a grand entry hall. It was spotless from top to bottom, including the massive, challenging to wash windows. The afternoon sun pouring in made it all too easy for Ulla to notice threadbare carpets, drapes worn thin with age, and suspicious water stains demonstrating that leaks in the roof had spread to lower floors. Lannie couldn’t live here. She deserved better than yet another crumbling manor house in the back of beyond.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. No one treats me like some back-alley whore! No one!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ethan HighTower stood towards the back of the crowd of relatives and stared in awe at Silas Avongale’s fiancée. Ulla Tisdale was a hot blonde with a hot red mouth made to be kissed and a luscious body, beautifully showcased by her snug pants and jacket. And her hair. It wasn’t just blonde. Based on the loose loops of braids, it was long, thick, and lush. He could imagine running his fingers through it, how it would drape across a pillow or across her nude body. Or his. So much more fascinating than Evelyn Ozigbow’s hair which was nice enough but sandy brown rather than Ulla’s glorious cornsilk. Not that Evelyn had let him near her hair or any other part of her.</p><p>The fiancé was a mere shadow of a man. Thin, beardless like a half-grown boy, overdressed like some Hot Zone fop and yapping about soil management techniques.</p><p>What could a red-blooded sexy woman like Ulla Tisdale want with Silas Avongale when she could have a real man like him?</p><p>He swaggered forward, pushing his way towards her and stopped when he was close enough to touch her.</p><p>“Hi, gorgeous,” Ethan said. He held up one hand — his relatives couldn’t see what he was about to say so he knew he was safe — and gestured with a wink and a smile. Ulla Tisdale wouldn’t know what he was telling her to do. She’d think he was being amusing.</p><p>His gorgeous hot sexy blonde looked puzzled for a moment. Then she reared back and slapped him so hard he staggered back and tripped over a footstool, landing in a heap on the floor.</p><hr/><p>“How dare you!” Ulla shrieked.</p><p>Every head in the oversized room turned towards her and Ethan HighTower, gaping at her like a gaffed fish as he lay sprawled on the floor.</p><p>“Is this how women are treated in the Ennaretee? You disgusting savage!” She moved closer to stomp on Ethan HighTower’s offending hand.</p><p>“Ulla!” Silas cried and rushed to her side, yanking her away from trampling a HighTower relative under her riding boots. “These are our hosts and we’re guests!”</p><p>“Do you know what he said to me? He said,” Ulla whispered it into Silas’s ear. He sucked in his breath and his face darkened with fury. He let go of Ulla and marched over to Ethan HighTower — who had struggled back to his feet — and slammed a fist into his jaw, knocking him back again onto the floor and narrowly missing cracking his head open on the footstool.</p><p>“How dare you say such a thing to my fiancée,” Silas snarled.</p><p>Ethan spluttered, unable to speak. He blinked, rubbed his jaw and worked it to be sure nothing was broken. He could not understand how such a thin man could punch like a horse kicking. Or how a blonde aristocrat knew what he’d said. It took longer to get to his feet the second time. His field of vision was full of stars whirling and twirling in time to the ringing in his head.</p><p>Paroo rushed forward, followed by Borden HighTower. “What did my son say?”</p><p>Ulla said coldly, “he gestured.”</p><p>She held her hand up high so everyone could see and formed the gesture Barsoom back-alley prostitutes taught her, causing gasps all around.</p><p>“It’s not exactly the same as what he did, but I caught his meaning. Is this how women are treated in the Ennaretee? Is it?”</p><p>Her voice rose and rose until she was screaming.</p><p>“I am Ulla Tisdale <em>DelFino</em>! No one treats me like some back-alley whore! No one! If this is how women are treated in the Ennaretee, then what is Fenrick HighTower doing to my cousin, Lannie?” She waved dagger-like fingers at the crowd of HighTower relatives.</p><p>Paroo stopped hovering over Ethan.</p><p>“You know Lannie?”</p><p>“Yes. I know Lannie. Or should I say Yilanda Ranaglia <em>DelFino</em>,” Ulla hissed. “Lannie is her nickname in the family. She jilted the daimyo of Orlov in the cathedral in Barsoom and met your son at a livery stable and ran off with him and I am here to save her from savages like that filthy-minded pervert on the floor over there and if you, Ethan HighTower, ever come near Lannie, I’ll cut your heart out and ram it down your throat until it comes out your ass!”</p><p>“DelFino,” Borden said in shock. Madre Winter. Exactly who wasn’t supposed to be allowed in HighTower had been welcomed anyway.</p><p>“We need to talk where it’s more private,” Silas said, looking to salvage the situation. “If you have an office, my lord Borden?”</p><p>“Where did you learn that gesture?” Paroo asked, still shocked at the obscenity. She had never seen a woman use it, even if they knew it.</p><p>“From a prostitute in Barsoom,” Ulla snapped. “I talk to anyone I want to and I talked to everyone in Barsoom when I was searching for Lannie and I am going to find her, rescue her, and bring her home. Where is she?”</p><p>“We’re not sure,” Paroo began.</p><p>“<em>What</em>!”</p><p>“Ulla, we’ll talk in the office with the daimyo and daimyah of HighTower,” Silas said. “This way.” He took her arm and got her moving out of the grand entry hall and away from the buzzing mob of relatives and vassals. None of them, he noted on the way out, paid much attention to soothing Ethan. It was clear the family didn’t regard him highly, a useful point for the upcoming negotiations.</p><hr/><p>Borden HighTower’s office was, Ulla noticed at once, nowhere near as grand as any of Zachery’s offices. Or well-appointed, like every other demesne office she had seen. These people needed money desperately but they, unlike, say, Albion DelFino, took care of what little they had. Everything in sight was well-worn, but it was also clean and in good repair, other than the hearth rug which had tiny holes burned into it from stray sparks.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” she whispered to Silas while Borden and Paroo’s hands flew, obviously arguing. Surprisingly, Dawud and Kavan had followed along behind them and were permitted access in a way that servants of DelFino would never be. Their hands flew too, as though they were part of the conversation.</p><p>“HighTower won’t talk to you about soil management or make introductions to Ennaretee demesnes closer to Avongale because of me.”</p><p>“Don’t be sorry,” Silas whispered back. “Ethan HighTower deserved it.” He wrapped a consoling arm around her and she let him, resting her head on his shoulder for a few vulnerable, wonderful moments.</p><p>“Lord Silas, Miss DelFino,” Borden HighTower said, having settled what he was going to say with Paroo and the Hands. “While we do not know exactly where Fen is, we know he is heading home. We received word from Lynch that he and your cousin, Lannie, were alive and doing fine as of a few weeks ago.”</p><p>“Lannie is still alive?” Ulla asked, her hands clasped.</p><p>“Yes. You should know that Fen wrote that they plan to marry the day after they arrive here,” Paroo said.</p><p>“No, they won’t,” Ulla said flatly. “Not until I talk to Lannie and see if that’s what she really and truly wants. One forced marriage was enough.”</p><p>Paroo and Borden’s hands flew again as did Dawud and Kavan’s.</p><p>“I am standing right in front of you,” Ulla pointed out. “It’s rude to talk in front of us like we’re not here. Send us out in the hall if you must confer in private.”</p><p>Silas put a quelling hand on her shoulder.</p><p>“My darling Ulla has been searching for Lannie for months and is distraught. Every time she gets close, Lannie vanishes again. We’ve been terrified that we’d find her mutilated corpse,” he said. “We must find her. That’s why we lied about Ulla’s family background.”</p><p>“You are forgiven. Please accept our apologies for Ethan’s behavior,” Paroo said with a placating smile. “This has been a tremendous shock to our entire family. I’ll ring for tea and we’ll discuss what’s been going on.”</p><p>“Fine,” Ulla said. “Why are they here?” She pointed that stabbing finger at Dawud and Kavan.</p><p>“Because we’re Hands of HighTower, my lady,” Dawud answered without a flinch. “We have responsibilities to the demesne and to our Fen since we trained him how to be a Steppes Rider.”</p><p>“We’re looking forward to meeting his young lady,” Kavan added. “And hearing from our Fen how he slaughtered Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne.”</p><p>“Who?” Ulla asked.</p><p>Silas shrugged.</p><p>“Wait. He murdered two people? He’ll murder Lannie too!” she wailed.</p><p>Borden chuckled. “We do need to compare notes. Have a seat.”</p><hr/><p>The explanation took time and refreshments. They were served cups of mint tea laced — to Ulla’s disgust — with lumps of melting butter forming an oily slick on the top of the liquid. Paroo saw her expression and produced fresh cups of unadulterated tea to go with the slices of hazelnut cake.</p><p>“It keeps the cold out,” she explained, sipping her own buttered tea.</p><p>“Oh. How practical.”</p><p>I can’t leave Lannie up here, Ulla thought in dismay. She’ll freeze the first winter. She wrenched her thoughts back to her hosts and the only thing they’d said that mattered.</p><p>“So you think that Lannie and Fen will travel through VanDenRooz?”</p><p>“Yes, his last message said so,” Borden replied patiently.</p><p>“How accurate is this message?” she demanded.</p><p>“It was his handwriting on the pigeon’s slip. Transferred from Schuster to VanDenRooz to us.”</p><p>“Pigeons,” Ulla said and blinked. Silas squeezed her hand, a gesture she was beginning to understand to mean he’d tell her later. “Sure. Pigeons. How, um, interesting.”</p><p>“It’s efficient,” Borden said. “They’re swift and they always deliver unless they’re eaten by hawks. Affordable too.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>Ulla looked down at her tea cup, then around Borden’s office again and the map on the wall finally registered. It was just like hers at home in DelFino Castle, covering most of a wall and showing the entire northern half of Mars. Just like hers, it was studded with pins showing the route she and Iolanthe had worked out from Lannie’s postcards. Like their maps, the false trail from Fintney to Purnell was clear. Unlike their maps, there were far more pins showing the true route. Fen had let his family know where he was. Why hadn’t he given more postcards to Lannie? Did he believe they didn’t care? The sodding bastard. What was he doing to Lannie?</p><p>She forced herself to focus on the map while Silas, Borden, and Paroo discussed pigeons, trying to remember where VanDenRooz was. She’d memorized all the demesnes on both sides of the 50° Latitude Road from Darnay to Robinsin so why couldn’t she remember where the hellation VanDenRooz was? She was going barking mad.</p><p>There. There was VanDenRooz. On the other side of the Nourz to Panschin corridor. Close. Two long days of riding if she rode straight across rather than angling through Robinsin to spend the night. But she had to sleep somewhere because she couldn’t, even switching between top-quality horses every hour on the hour, make the trip in twenty-four hours. Even with help. Worse, a mistake in the dark would be fatal. A flutter caught her eye.</p><p>Dawud and Kavan were gesturing to each other, those rapid handwaves that were a language. It would be so useful to know a language that could be used in front of someone else and yet still be completely private. She suddenly understood why Airik Shelleen was learning handtalk and why he wasn’t going to inform his Ennaretee hosts he knew what they were saying. Silas was so much better at politics than she was. He had understood Airik’s point instantly and she was getting off track again.</p><p>Dawud and Kavan. Why was she paying attention to them?</p><p>Because they’d gotten her from Robinsin to here across the trackless steppes on a road that was as rundown as any of Charlton’s and done it easily and she had to get to VanDenRooz where Lannie was. Which was lost somewhere in another trackless wilderness of tall grass carpeting about a million identical hills. Tall grass filled with wild animals, like the ones that Dawud and Kavan’s crew had hunted down, roasted, and fed to them during the journey to HighTower when they weren’t eating stewed grains. Tall grass where whatever hunted and ate those animals lurked and if those predators ate antelope, they’d eat her.</p><p>She needed them if she was going to make it to VanDenRooz. VanDenRooz wouldn’t allow access to DelFino or Orlov either, according to what she’d been told. She needed entry, despite who she was. They were watching her, watching them. It was impossible to tell what they were thinking behind thickets of beard and tangles of hair. Savages, but skillful and experienced.</p><p>A thought waved madly at her. What Ottilie had said weeks ago. Favors had to be paid for. There was her answer. Crimes required restitution and she could use that to bolster her argument; the stick followed by the carrot. Ottilie would be so proud of her.</p><p>“My lord Borden,” Ulla snapped out. “My lady Paroo. Your son, Ethan, was unpardonably rude to me and to my fiancé.”</p><p>“Yes, he was,” Borden said and his wife nodded.</p><p>“I want recompense.”</p><p>“Do you? You’re a long way from home and you entered our demesne under false pretenses,” the daimyo of HighTower replied.</p><p>Luckily, Ulla thought, I’m used to dealing with Zachery. You’ll be easy. She smiled primly.</p><p>“Yes, I did, to save my cousin and I’d do it again.”</p><p>“What is going on with Orlov?” Borden asked casually. Everyone in the room, including Silas, paid closer attention while trying not to look as though they were.</p><p>“I swore not to tell and I won’t so quit asking,” Ulla said. “But I can tell you this. Orlov will murder Lannie if they get their hands on her so whatever you do with me, do not, I beg of you, hand her over to them. Or, I’m sorry to say, to Zachery DelFino. Our daimyo knows what’s going on and he doesn’t care about Lannie’s wellbeing either.”</p><p>Borden scowled. “Family feeling like this in the Hot Zone and you call us savages.”</p><p>“That doesn’t matter to me right now. Only Lannie matters. Don’t let John RedHawk get Lannie either. He’s working for Orlov and I think he’s camped outside of Robinsin, lying in wait for her.”</p><p>Borden sat back on the low sofa and sipped his tea as though he was completely uninterested. But he was interested, Ulla realized. Very interested.</p><p>“I want recompense for Ethan’s disrespect,” she repeated. “I want safe passage for me into VanDenRooz.”</p><p>“Excuse me?” Silas said, sitting bolt upright.</p><p>“And Silas,” she added hastily. “And our servants. Dawud and Kavan can escort us since they already know us. Ethan was extremely rude. That said, I know that isn’t enough to get you to give me what I want so I’ll give you this in exchange. Evelyn Ozigbow wrote to me.”</p><p>Ulla watched Paroo cringe and Borden look discouraged. Sticks and carrots, just like Ottilie served up on a regular basis.</p><p>“She’ll never marry Ethan and not just because he’s a card-carrying, obscenity-spewing sod. She wants to climb the social hierarchy, preferably to a demesne in the Hot Zone.” Ulla smiled at their expressions. “Forget any hopes you have for Evelyn Ozigbow. However, I have a lot of penpals. Many of my friends would be willing to travel to HighTower and meet Ethan or anyone else in your household.”</p><p>“Why can’t your friends marry better than into our family?” Paroo asked coldly. “What is wrong with them?”</p><p>“Well, nothing, really, unless you insist on a huge dowry or stunning beauty or fantastic connections and great business deals,” Ulla replied honestly. “Most of my friends are in the Four Hundred, but they belong to cadet branches, lesser lines, or they’re shy, or socially awkward like I am. Some are plain. Little to no dowry or connections. My point is their families don’t shop them around like they could so they’re on their own. I’ll make introductions for you in exchange for getting me to Lannie and VanDenRooz.”</p><p>“I already have letters of introduction from Ottilie DelFino and Gladys Orlov.”</p><p>“They don’t mean it,” Ulla said baldly. “They want Lannie. They’ll lie to you, just like Zachery or Rastislav and Dimitri will lie. Give them Lannie and they’ll disappear and you’ll get nothing in exchange.”</p><p>Paroo sniffed. “As I thought. They think we’re savages with nothing to offer.”</p><p>“Well, yes,” Ulla admitted.</p><p>Borden gestured and Paroo nodded.</p><p>“It’s getting late. We’ll discuss this after dinner, Miss DelFino, Lord Silas.”</p><p>Silas leaped to his feet. “It would be our pleasure, my lord. May I hope we’ll be permitted to spend the night in your home?”</p><p>Borden and Paroo both looked offended.</p><p>“We know how to treat guests, even ones who lied to enter our home,” Paroo said. “I’ll show you to your room.”</p><hr/><p>As soon as the door closed behind Paroo, Ulla, and Silas, Dawud said, “Kavan and me will be glad to escort them to VanDenRooz. They might let slip what’s going on during the journey.”</p><p>“I agree,” Borden said. “It’s something big. Orlov is offering a fat reward for that girl of Fen’s. Winter knows we can use the money but I don’t want to see some girl, even one from DelFino, forced into marrying a drunken roué like Rastislav.”</p><p>“Fresh genes from far away,” Kavan said.</p><p>“Yes,” Borden said thoughtfully. “And eventually, DelFino will come to their senses and agree to closer relations. That would benefit us, our quad, and our ninesquare. Zachery won’t remain daimyo of DelFino forever.”</p><p>He drummed his fingers on the desk, deep in thought, and studied the map.</p><p>“We got little idea where Fen is. I assume he’s staying as far north as he can, hugging the demesne borders, raiding supply dumps like he did Lynch’s, and avoiding the road. He’ll head straight for the far southwest corner of VanDenRooz. Once he crosses their border, him and Lannie will be safe enough. Get your crew ready to depart tomorrow. Send messages to VanDenRooz, Winzlow, and Aguillero. Fen and Lannie will need an escort across the corridor and I want the quad to stand as one.”</p><p>“Sir? I want to bring those two horses with us, the ones that Fen won from those outlaws. Creamy Girl and Highstepper.”</p><p>“Excellent idea,” Borden said. “I’ll keep that mouthy blonde and Avongale waiting until after breakfast on my decision. I might get a better deal from her.”</p><p>“He came here under false pretenses too. You should ask Avongale for introductions, yeah?” Kavan said.</p><p>Borden smiled. “Yeah. Good idea. I will.”</p><hr/><p>Like at DelFino Castle, breakfast in the HighTower manor house took place in the main dining hall and everyone in the family was expected to attend. So were the guests.</p><p>Ulla, followed by Silas, marched up to Paroo who was overseeing the final seating arrangements.</p><p>“Good morning,” Paroo said. She glanced at the early sunshine streaming into the room and illuminating every worn spot in the carpets. “You’re up early.”</p><p>“Not for me,” Ulla said. “I stayed up late after Silas and I talked to everyone last night at dinner. I wrote letters to everyone I thought would be interested in coming to HighTower to meet your marriageable young men.” She held out a sheaf of letters.</p><p>“That was very generous of you,” Paroo said, taking the letters and riffling through them. Ulla did know many young aristocratic women. She didn’t recognize many of the demesne names, implying that Ulla’s friends were spread widely across the Four Hundred. “You know that Borden has yet to agree.”</p><p>She moved to hand the letters back.</p><p>“I know,” Ulla said, folding her hands to conceal her gnawed fingernails and ignoring the letters. “But I did lie to enter HighTower so whether or not he agrees, I’ll hold up my end of the bargain. I’ll offer the same to VanDenRooz and maybe they’ll let me and Silas in to rescue Lannie.”</p><p>“Do you really think some of your penpals would agree to visit HighTower?” Paroo asked, trying to shove down hope.</p><p>“Yes,” Ulla said. “They may need train-fare because most of my friends, like I told you last night, aren’t getting proper family support. I should be honest and admit I’ve never seen some of my friends in person. We’re penpals, sometimes going back years, but we’ve never met.”</p><p>“Goodness,” Paroo said, blinking in consternation.</p><p>“Us wallflowers have to stick together,” Ulla said.</p><p>“You do not strike me as a wallflower,” Paroo said.</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Ulla said, thinking of all the well-connected young men she’d been introduced to who, after an awkward dinner, informed her she was a bossy harpy with no sense of humor and an overpowering sense of duty and they wouldn’t marry her despite her status as a DelFino.</p><p>“You were never a wallflower,” Silas said loyally. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “My Ulla,” he told Paroo, “will be the best daimyah Avongale has ever had.”</p><p>“You are not the daimyo of Avongale so that will be impossible,” Borden asked. He’d slipped up behind them to catch the conversation.</p><p>“Not yet,” Silas said confidently. “I’m one of our frontrunners and I will be elected, my Ulla at my side. After that, I’ll lead my quad, my ninesquare, and eventually, the western half of the Ennagzee.”</p><p>“You have ambitions,” Borden said.</p><p>“Yes, my lord, I do.”</p><p>“We’ll discuss them over breakfast.”</p><p>“What about us going to VanDenRooz?” Ulla asked anxiously. “Have you decided? I have to save Lannie.” She clutched the sides of her dress to keep her fingernails away from her mouth.</p><p>“After breakfast, Miss DelFino,” Borden said. “I have some negotiations to conduct with Silas.”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>As soon as Borden and Paroo walked away, Silas whispered, “I believe he’s already decided to say yes. My valet tells me that HighTower is too poor and isolated to pass up possible marriage partners who’ll bring much-needed fertility with them. What Borden really wants is to sweeten the deal and get something out of Avongale.”</p><p>“Really? You are so good at politics,” Ulla whispered back. “Can you negotiate with him?”</p><p>Silas grinned. “Yes, I can. Avongale won’t lose, I promise. And neither will HighTower. Those are the best deals, when both sides gain.” Which, according to his happy valet, they already had but he wouldn’t tell Ulla the salacious details. Avongale had their own ways of dealing with infertility stemming from a limited gene pool and this wasn’t that different but a DelFino princess might not understand.</p><hr/><p>“Two full days?” Ulla asked Dawud. “We can’t travel faster?”</p><p>“No, my lady,” he replied.</p><p>Ulla noticed that he, like Kavan, had switched back to working hair. The vast majority of beads had vanished, leaving a small cluster at his left temple and his hair was braided back into a plait hanging down past his ass. It coordinated with the drab wool and leather they wore. The only color was the HighTower sigil embroidered on their clothing.</p><p>“<em>We</em> could, me and Kavan and our crew, but not you. And only if we set up waystations in advance with fresh horses and that would take a week or more and by that time, we’d already be in VanDenRooz.”</p><p>“Damnation,” Ulla said. “I was hoping I was wrong when I worked out the distances looking at the map.”</p><p>“You weren’t,” Dawud reassured her. “Got to camp out at the halfway point.”</p><p>“Tents?” Ulla asked warily.</p><p>“No, my lady. It shouldn’t rain so there’s no need.”</p><p>“And if it does rain?” Silas asked.</p><p>“We’ll get wet. You’ll be fine,” Dawud told them. “A little summer rain is good for you. It’ll wash your soul clean.”</p><p>As soon as he left, Silas said, “Don’t worry my darling. This is an adventure.” He grinned at her expression. “None of my cousins have ever done anything like this. We’ll rescue Lannie.” He leaned in for a kiss, not caring who saw, and she let him.</p><p>Silas kissed her while Ulla thought, they’re savages. Washing your soul clean in the rain. Gleesh. Plus, this is the coldest summer I’ve ever heard of. At least it’s finally warming up so it feels like early spring instead of the dead of winter. This isn’t summer. Gleesh.</p><hr/><p>They made camp just past the Nourz to Panschin Road in a spot that looked like every other spot they’d ridden past during the trek from HighTower. Dawud and Kavan insisted that this campsite was one of their usual ones. Ulla knew, looking around, that she would have never twigged to its specialness or the prior preparations to make camping out in the wilderness more comfortable or safer. She found herself wishing for a shelter, like the one they’d slept in when traveling from Robinsin to HighTower. Or a tent. At least she could count on the dogs barking if wolves attacked.</p><p>Silas agreed but he asked patient questions, trying to discern how this particular hollow in the hills was superior. Meanwhile, Ulla stewed and paced and waited for the evening to pass so they could set out at dawn.</p><p>It rained that night.</p><p>Light, thin, and cold, the kind of drizzle that went unnoticed if you were snug inside under a roof. She did not feel that her soul was washed clean. Instead, lying wrapped in wool that smelled like sheep, under a tarp that leaked, and Silas wedged up against her, Ulla thought of Lannie, lost and soaking wet and freezing. Everyone assured her that Lannie and Fen would be safe in VanDenRooz, even if they were rained on too.</p><hr/><p>“Damnation,” Orlando Lynch said, surveying the pair of stripped bodies sprawled in the campsite on the northern side of the 50° road. The dogs had demanded they inspect closer and the dogs had been right. “I think I recognize these men. They’re on wanted posters in the Darnay post office. A nice reward too.”</p><p>Istvan leaned over for a closer look, wrinkling his nose at the odor.</p><p>“You may be right. I wonder who got them. Bodies are fresh. Throats slit so it was close quarters. They probably didn’t know what hit them until it was too late.”</p><p>Istvan, Kibo, and their crew spent a careful half-hour working out what had happened based on the clues the campsite offered. They came to the conclusion that Orlando Lynch had already leaped to. There had been a falling out between outlaws on the trail after Fen HighTower and Yilanda DelFino.</p><p>“I want to send word ahead,” Orlando announced. “Warn VanDenRooz what might be chasing Fen.”</p><p>“Warn them about us too,” Istvan said dryly. “In the heat of a fight, all strangers are the enemy, yeah?”</p><p>“Oh. Yeah,” Orlando replied. “You’re right. VanDenRooz’s Hands don’t know us.”</p><p>“No, they don’t. They’ll assume we’re after Fen and his girl too.”</p><p>Orlando stared at the bodies, knowing he was missing the obvious. What was it? He’d said something important and then gotten distracted by the odor, maggots, and flapping crows.</p><p>“Oh! We’ll notify home too. We can claim the reward on these two,” he said proudly. “No one will find these bodies anytime soon so that coin’s ours.”</p><p>“Good thinking, Orlando,” Kibo said after another of those annoying glances between him and Istvan.</p><p>“Yeah, I do that sometimes,” Orlando said.</p><hr/><p>Ulla, Silas, and the crew from HighTower reached VanDenRooz late in the afternoon, the sun making their shadows stretch into the east. VanDenRooz’s land and village didn’t look any more civilized than HighTower had. The manor house, at least, was better appointed, implying that this demesne was more profitable and better run.</p><p>It took forever for introductions to be made, one person after another, and most of them seemed to be eager young men shadowed by their anxious older female relatives. She couldn’t stand it anymore.</p><p>“Where is Lannie?” Ulla demanded of the entry hall crowded with people. “I have to know.”</p><p>“Not within our borders yet, Miss DelFino,” the daimyo of VanDenRooz said. “My nephew, Theo, is waiting at the far southwestern corner with some Hands and their crews. They’ll send a pigeon soon as they spot Fen and your cousin.”</p><p>“And what happens next?” Ulla asked suspiciously.</p><p>“We’ll wait until Fen and your cousin arrive here,” the daimyo said cheerfully. He gave Ulla a good looking over, noticing her ruddy health, well-shaped body with the hips designed to bear many children and the genes from far enough away to practically ensure fertility, and to top off the package, perfect emerald skin and lovely blonde hair on full display.</p><p>“It’ll give you a chance to get to know us better. The sons of my household are anxious to meet you.” He beamed at her.</p><p>Silas bristled but before he could say something, Ulla marched forward and grabbed the daimyo of VanDenRooz by his lapels and yanked him right next to her furious face.</p><p>“Get me to Lannie, you idiot,” she hissed. “I’m leaving in the morning for your western border, with or without your permission. Give it to me and I’ll arrange introductions to all my friends. Don’t give me permission, I’ll still go and I’ll make sure that no one in the Four Hundred ever marries into VanDenRooz for the next fifty years and I can do it because I’ve got friends all over Mars! Get me?” Her voice rose and rose until she was shrieking.</p><p>The daimyo carefully disengaged her clutching fingers while Silas pulled Ulla away.</p><p>“My darling fiancée is distraught, my lord daimyo,” he said smoothly. He kept his arms wrapped tightly around her, one hand near her mouth in case she lost control again. He could feel tension and fury radiating from her body. He was close enough to hear her pounding heart.</p><p>“Please forgive my darling Ulla. We’re terrified we’ll find Lannie’s mangled and desecrated corpse. Every outlaw in the Northern Hemisphere must be looking for her.”</p><p>“I am aware of the situation,” the daimyo said coldly. His wife grabbed his shoulder and whispered madly into his ear; her face contorted with anger. All around them Ulla saw other relatives waving their hands as though they were swatting hordes of bats away. What were they saying? She’d ruined everything in her panic.</p><p>“But we will forgive Miss DelFino. She’s distraught. We’ll make arrangements for you to leave in the morning for our western border.”</p><p>“You have my deepest gratitude, my lord,” Silas said. “I’m interested in possible business deals with the Ennaretee. Perhaps we can discuss them over dinner.”</p><p>The daimyo of VanDenRooz permitted a cool smile. “We shall.”</p><p>Silas got Ulla moving into the crowd of VanDenRooz family and as he did, he caught a glimpse of Dawud tossing something to Kavan and the grins from their crew. He’d been observing them use handtalk and thought he might be learning a “word” or two. Ulla had not surprised <em>them</em>, even if she’d surprised the VanDenRooz family and its vassals.</p><hr/><p>RedHawk marched into the dining room of the Robinsin hotel, feeling like a man marching to his execution. Too much time had passed with no sign of Miss Yilanda or of Fen HighTower. But there had been other signs, disturbing signs, and it was his duty to inform his employer.</p><p>Dimitri Orlov watched him approach with cold eyes. Rastislav glowered silently by his side. On the other side, Albion, that rotted ham, posed so his profile caught the light.</p><p>Worse, the daimyo of DelFino held court in the sunny half of the room. He watched with the eyes of a wolf, selecting the weakest animal in the herd for devouring. Mr. Parminder had confidential information on Orlov’s true finances but not, to RedHawk’s knowledge, on DelFino.</p><p>“My lord Dimitri,” RedHawk said and bowed. “I have news.”</p><p>“I don’t see her so nothing you have to say is of value,” Dimitri said.</p><p>RedHawk swallowed a sigh. “This is Major Achebe, of Internal Security.”</p><p>Major Achebe bowed just enough to satisfy the proprieties and not one hair more.</p><p>“Why is he here?” Dimitri asked.</p><p>“To ensure that you and DelFino follow the law,” Major Achebe said smoothly. “The Four Hundred believes it is above the law. This is true on your demesnes, but it is not true when you are in a government corridor. It is my duty to remind you and Lord Zachery DelFino over there that kidnapping is against the law.”</p><p>“I don’t plan on kidnapping Miss Yilanda,” Dimitri lied. “My daimyo has fallen desperately in love with her and wishes merely to press his suit with her.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” RedHawk said woodenly.</p><p>“That sounds like a self-serving lie,” Major Achebe said. “Sadly, you are not under oath so your lies are not illegal. I cannot apply the hot iron of the law to you. Yet.”</p><p>“RedHawk, did you have anything useful to say?” Dimitri asked. “Otherwise, you are wasting my coin.”</p><p>“I did, my lord,” RedHawk said. “Other people are stirring. Each of the four demesnes surrounding Robinsin has been sending vassals out into the steppes surrounding the city. They are setting up camps. They expect something to happen, what I do not know. I suspect that they are there to provide an armed escort across the corridor to HighTower.”</p><p>“The daimyo of Orlov must speak with Miss Yilanda,” Dimitri said stubbornly. “It is life or death for him.”</p><p>“I adore her,” Rastislav announced. “I must woo her. She will bear me many strong sons. My ancestor, Madame Orlov, has told me so in my dreams.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” RedHawk said even more woodenly. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the snickers from the surrounding, eavesdropping diners.</p><p>Major Achebe didn’t bother to stifle a snort.</p><p>“You have told me everything, my lord?” RedHawk demanded. “Every last detail? It is critical I have all the facts.”</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>,” Dimitri, Rastislav, and Albion hissed together. “<em>Everything</em>.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Someone catch that rat dog and muzzle it!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Fen reined in Tabasco as he studied the horizon. The mid-morning sun lit up the steppes, rays like the fingers of gods piercing the clouds to illuminate the ocean of grass below. Handsome, on the lead and carrying the baggage, obediently halted as well.</p><p>“Damnation.”</p><p>“What is it?” Lannie asked. She looked around nervously as she reined in Coppertail. Brownie had been sniffing the air but she wasn’t yapping. Coppertail was edgy, but that was Brownie’s presence. Despite Lannie and Brownie riding Coppertail nonstop since they left Lynch’s territory, Coppertail had not warmed up to the dog perched within biting reach of his neck.</p><p>“I can’t be that far off,” Fen said. He pointed east to the horizon where a narrow column of dark smoke rose towards the heavens.</p><p>“Is that VanDenRooz?” Lannie asked. Once they crossed the border, Fen had said they could rest up for a few days. She planned to spend an entire day laying down after days of nonstop riding interspersed with anxious, too-short nights, just long enough for the horses to graze and recover.</p><p>“If it is, I misread our position completely,” Fen said. “I thought we were a few klicks away. That smoke says we’re off by twenty klicks or more. I can’t understand how I made such a huge mistake.”</p><p>Lannie looked around uneasily. “All this grass and these hills look alike.” Except where the horses trampled that path behind us in the grass, she thought. Even I can see that trail.</p><p>“Oh, no, Lannie. They’re all different.”</p><p>“Okay,” she said tiredly.</p><p>“Not much longer, I swear.” He stood in the saddle and studied all around them again. Then he laughed.</p><p>“Theo! You genius! I got your message. We’ll be fine, Lannie.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>The wind shifted slightly, picking up strength as it did.</p><p>Yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap yap!</p><p>Coppertail shied and Fen snapped “ride, Lannie, straight north!”</p><p>“Not to the column?”</p><p>“No! Ride!”</p><p>He slapped Coppertail’s hindquarters as hard as he could and the gelding bolted north, carrying Lannie and Brownie away. He pulled Reg Sanderson’s razor-sharp belt knife from its sheath and slashed Handsome’s lead, freeing the gelding. He spurred Tabasco after Lannie, praying that Handsome would follow the other horses. That annoying rat dog had repaid them for her rescue again.</p><p>A moment later, he heard a man behind them yell, his voice torn apart by the wind, “There!”</p><hr/><p>Lannie spurred Coppertail into a gallop, hanging on for dear life. She had to trust that Fen knew what he was doing, despite the smoke column’s presence so far to the east. Brownie yapped continuously in terror and Lannie wanted to scream with the dog, but it would upset Coppertail more than he already was.</p><p>She discovered to her horror that she didn’t have to spur him again to keep him at a hard gallop. Something was chasing them, terrifying the liver gelding. She didn’t dare turn in the saddle and look back. All she could do was trust Fen’s last words and ride hard into the unknown and pray it was VanDenRooz.</p><hr/><p>Fen galloped after Lannie but not at the same hard pace. He yanked out the machete; it had a longer reach than a belt knife. He followed in her path, watching to see who was ambushing them. He had to trust he’d understood the smoke column’s message. A stranger would not know the truth.</p><p>As he feared, armed riders charged over the ridge and raced after Lannie. She was more valuable than he was. Those damned reward posters plastered all over Mars had done their job. The outlaws he’d been dreading had found them at last. He had to trust that Coppertail, the best horse he’d ever owned, the horse who would run until his heart burst if asked, the horse who never quit, would get Lannie to VanDenRooz. If she could hold on.</p><p>Where the hellation were Theo and the VanDenRooz Hands? They knew he was coming.</p><p>He spurred Tabasco, tore after Lannie, and caught up with the slowest of the bandits who’d been waiting in ambush for them. He slashed the machete at the horse’s hindquarters, laying the poor animal open to the bone. The horse screamed, reared, threw its rider and then it was on to the next. They’d kill him but he’d give Lannie enough time to escape.</p><p>Two of the outlaws wheeled around to face him, allowing their partners to chase after Lannie. He’d make his stand here and his blood would feed the grass. So close. Where the hell was Theo?</p><hr/><p>Lannie rode and rode, her body screaming, Brownie yapping like a mad thing in her arms. Coppertail ran and ran, his flanks covered with lathery sweat, breathing like the bellows in a forge. He couldn’t run much farther at this pace and the outlaws chasing them would soon catch up. She could keep him headed north and that’s what she did and then suddenly, snarling wolves leaped from the grass and surrounded her. Coppertail reared, almost throwing her, neighed and then ran harder.</p><p>A moment later, new armed men appeared. They were shaggy, draped in dull wool, and mounted on swift, fresh horses. They followed the snapping wolves, circling her.</p><p>She spurred Coppertail again but despite his terror, the gelding was tiring. The wolves surrounded them again, forcing him to slow down, rearing, kicking, and snapping at the circling wolves. She barely held onto her seat, clutching Brownie in a stranglehold. As Coppertail slowed, one of the riders raced up alongside her and tossed a rope over Coppertail’s neck. The gallant gelding slowed again, choking, allowing another ambusher to ride alongside them and snatch the reins from her hands. She screamed and screamed in terror, drowning Brownie’s hysterical yapping and the screams echoing around her. She would die here on the steppes and her family would go to their graves never knowing her fate.</p><hr/><p>Mr. Parminder stared off into the reception area where Mrs. Duckart’s flashy ballgown still hung on the wall. Like John RedHawk’s newest message, it shouted his failure in the Orlov case. All that money spent, all that time invested, all that aggravation endured. He’d earn a tiny profit but at a terrible cost. The result was shaping up to be two demesnes bitterly hating him and his agency for his failure to deliver on his sworn promise. Two demesnes he’d have to fight to keep his good name, preserve his agency and its employees, and safeguard his family.</p><p>Orlov could be managed. They were a financial train wreck waiting to happen. He had the information ready that would destroy the demesne in the markets, call in creditors, and provoke bankruptcy. The triumvirate knew the cards he held but Orlov’s leaders had proved themselves barking mad. Mutually assured destruction might not stop them. He could derive some satisfaction from knowing that even as they ruined him, the ruling family and their unlucky serfs would suffer worse.</p><p>DelFino was the challenge. Despite not being involved directly, they were involved up to their ears. If the daimyo of DelFino did not capture Yilanda DelFino, he would blame Parminder Investigations. Someone had to take responsibility and it wouldn’t be any of DelFino’s incompetent agents.</p><p>Mr. Parminder tapped his fingers on the DelFino file. Regrettably, Zachery had done a credible job running DelFino, as had his predecessors. It was a thin file, containing little information that would keep DelFino off his back.</p><p>He sighed and read RedHawk’s message again but the wording did not improve. RedHawk did not believe he’d get near enough to Yilanda DelFino to kidnap her. The presence of Major Achebe, representing Internal Security could, perhaps, be finessed as could the Robinsin sheriff if the bribes were large enough. Unfortunately, there was little chance that Orlov could afford the wagonload of coin needed for bribes.</p><p>The bigger problem was the slowly growing presence of armed, openly hostile Steppes Riders, encircling RedHawk’s camp outside Robinsin. They could not be reasoned with, bribed, or avoided. RedHawk believed that the encampment no longer included just representatives of the four demesnes surrounding Robinsin; HighTower, VanDenRooz, Winzlow, and Aguillero. No, other sigils from other demesnes were appearing.</p><p>HighTower’s ninesquare had responded in force to a request for aid.</p><p>And yet, according to RedHawk’s latest message, Dimitri and Rastislav Orlov kept lying. Albion DelFino was eager to sacrifice his daughter. What had Yilanda DelFino done that they still refused to reveal?</p><p>Mr. Parminder wondered if RedHawk would ever find out.</p><p>He picked another letter wearily. It was a reminder that Yilanda DelFino had family besides her cousin Ulla who loved her and were desperate for news of any kind. Iolanthe Orlov DelFino had written begging for any information he could pass along. He had none. A letter from Shondra Sakamoto was similar; a friend who according to the address lived in one of the most rundown districts in Barsoom.</p><p>Like Shondra Sakamoto, Iolanthe Orlov DelFino, her husband Charlton, and her mother-in-law, all he could do at this point was wait.</p><hr/><p>Fen could dimly, faintly hear Lannie’s screams carried to him by the wind, along with Brownie’s yapping and Coppertail’s furious neigh and the shouts of fighting men. He ignored them and swung hard at the man riding at him, looking to slice off an arm. Another screamed name floated on the wind.</p><p>Lynch.</p><p>Betrayed by distant relatives. He should have known better than to trust anyone who looked favorably on his idiot brother Ethan.</p><hr/><p>Lannie screamed and screamed as she was wrestled off Coppertail. Brownie leaped from her arms and charged horses, men, and wolves, yapping madly. The man she fought forced her to the ground, pinning her.</p><p>He was saying something and she didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t hear it over her own screams, Coppertail’s violent neighing, dogs barking.</p><p>He slapped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. She couldn’t move. She stared up at the dirty, bearded face of a stranger in terror. Her heart beat so loudly she could barely understand him.</p><p>“I’m Theo! Theo VanDenRooz! You’re safe now.”</p><p>She tried to bite his leather-gloved hand.</p><p>He grinned; his teeth shockingly white against his forest green skin and dark hair. “You must be Lannie, yeah?”</p><p>He twisted, releasing the pressure on her body ever so slightly, and yelled “someone catch that rat dog and muzzle it!”</p><p>Lannie forced herself up and whapped her head into his hand. He lost his grip and she screamed “don’t hurt my dog!”</p><p>He clapped his hand back over her mouth and pinned her back down.</p><p>“You’re worried about the dog and not our Fen?”</p><p>She snarled into his hand, making him grin again.</p><p>“You’re a feisty one. I’ll pull my hand away if you promise not to scream.”</p><p>She nodded her head, furious that she couldn’t do anything else. But he wasn’t hurting her. Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne or outlaws like them would have ripped her coverall off by now and started in on her. Around her, the noise slowly ebbed. Coppertail had gone quiet and then, abruptly, so did Brownie.</p><p>Wait. What did he say his name was?</p><p>“If you’re Theo, Fen’s friend, then where is Fen?” she cried. “Why aren’t you rescuing him?”</p><p>“We are,” Theo said. “But he was adamant in his last message, the one sent via Lynch’s pigeons. You came first.”</p><p>“And you listened to him? You idiot!”</p><p>“Well,” Theo conceded. “I do have another reason.”</p><p>Lannie slumped back onto the ground in despair. Somehow, Theo VanDenRooz knew about the Pearls of Orlov. They were hidden at the bottom of Coppertail’s saddlebags but they wouldn’t stay hidden long.</p><p>“Why did you attack me?”</p><p>“We didn’t. We attacked the bandits attacking you. All dead by the way.”</p><p>“Oh.” She turned her head and caught sight of a butchered body, leaking its bloody intestines out onto the ground in a growing pool of crimson. She gagged, gagged again at the smell, and turned back to Theo. “How do you know I’m Lannie?”</p><p>He chuckled. “I’d know Coppertail anywhere and if Fen’s not riding Coppertail, then it must be you, yeah?”</p><p>“Is Coppertail hurt? And what did you do to my dog?”</p><p>“Coppertail will be fine. Someone’s seeing to him now. As for your little dog, she’s muzzled and tied so she doesn’t bite anyone.”</p><p>“Then quit wasting time and rescue Fen. He needs you more.”</p><p>“Already on it,” Theo said. “I’ll help you to your feet. If you run, you’ll get hogtied like your dog and tied to a horse so don’t.”</p><p>“I’m on foot in the middle of nowhere and there are outlaws chasing me. I won’t run off,” Lannie snapped. “If you really are Theo VanDenRooz, then save Fen. And stay out of Coppertail’s saddlebags.”</p><p>“We need to unload them.”</p><p>“My monthly cloths are in there,” Lannie said, thinking fast. “I don’t want anyone pawing through them.”</p><p>Theo opened his mouth and then closed it again as he flushed with embarrassment. “I got a sister. No worries, yeah?”</p><hr/><p>The outlaws surrounding Fen fell back under the onslaught of huge, furious dogs followed by armed, shouting men on horseback. An opening appeared. He could race after Lannie. And lead these men right to her. The opening closed and within minutes, outlaws were pulled from their terrified horses by men and dogs and flung to the ground, hacked apart before they landed.</p><p>He was ignored; isolated with snarling dogs keeping Tabasco at bay. She was frantic, hemmed in, trapped, and if the dogs came closer, she’d throw him and break his back. But the dogs kept their distance, circling widely, keeping her caged. Ennaretee dogs. They had to be Lynch’s dogs.</p><p>He could not lead them to Lannie. The distant screaming and Coppertail’s neighs had stopped. She was dead or escaped into VanDenRooz.</p><p>The lead rider dismounted and approached slowly, keeping a wary eye on Tabasco. She was wild-eyed, ready to bolt, and not stop running until her heart burst. Only the fact that the dogs kept their distance kept her from panicking still more. They had stopped barking; they growled when she tried to move outside of their circle and went silent when she retreated. Smart mare that she was, she got the message to stay put. She danced in her agitation, panting like a bellows.</p><p>The lead rider held his empty hands out and as he neared, Fen recognized him.</p><p>“Orlando Lynch,” he called out.</p><p>“That’s right,” Orlando answered. “Saved your ass, HighTower.”</p><p>“You’ve been following me, yeah?” Fen asked and suppressed a groan at his stupidity.</p><p>“Yeah, and lucky for you,” Orlando replied. “We found a pair of outlaws, their throats slashed, on the 50° Road and took care of another pair ourselves. That reward on your girl brought thieves and bandits boiling out of the grass like ants from a kicked-over mound.”</p><p>“You got proof of this?” Fen asked. As long as they were talking, he had a chance at escape. It couldn’t be far to VanDenRooz although where the hell was anyone from VanDenRooz? He’d been sure Theo would be on the lookout. Someone had sent up that smoke column.</p><p>“No, you’ll have to take our word for it,” Orlando said.</p><p>“He’s not lying. You have my word as a Hand of Lynch,” Istvan said, dismounting his own horse and approaching with his hands out and empty. He made soothing noises to Tabasco as he approached, while remaining carefully out of range of her hooves and teeth. “Any idea how close we are to VanDenRooz?”</p><p>“See that smoke column over there? That’s their border,” Fen lied.</p><p>“We sent messages we were on the way and that you had outlaws following you. They should be here,” Orlando announced as if his words would produce VanDenRooz Hands and their crews.</p><p>Fen heard a bird’s call and suppressed a smile. No bird should be singing after the screaming, yelling noise of the melee. Even the insects remained silent. Orlando might not understand the significance but the Hands of Lynch should and indeed they did, as did their crew. Istvan had gone alert, looking around warily. The dogs would bark as soon as they heard or smelled something but the wind was strong, allowing anyone approaching into it to get closer without being scented.</p><p>“They’re gonna be here any minute, Orlando,” Istvan stated loudly. Even louder, he called “VanDenRooz! We’re Lynch. Saved HighTower’s ass from bandits. If you don’t have his girl safe, you need to be looking for her and not wasting time over us.”</p><p>A man rose out of the grass near him, setting the dogs to barking hysterically and making Tabasco rear while Fen fought to stay astride the mare.</p><p>“Already done,” the newcomer called out. “Settle those dogs or my crew will shoot them dead.”</p><p>Istvan shouted commands to the dogs and they reluctantly went silent. Orlando spun around and blanched when he saw archers rise out of the grass, arrows aimed at him, his Hands and their crew, his dogs.</p><p>The stranger called out “Fenrick, you ready to come home?”</p><p>“Yes, I am, Abelard,” Fen replied after calming Tabasco again. “I’ll need to retrieve my other horse on the way, name of Handsome.”</p><p>“We’ll keep an eye out.”</p><p>“And what about us?” Orlando asked. “I’m a relative of HighTower. Me, my Hands Istvan and Kibo, and their crew have been following Fen and his girl since he left Lynch’s territory. We’ve been keeping bandits away from him.”</p><p>“Very generous of you,” Abelard said.</p><p>“What are you gonna do with the surviving horses, gear, and any booty?” Orlando asked. “We slaughtered these outlaws.”</p><p>“Orlando,” Istvan warned. “Shut up.”</p><p>“I won’t. I don’t want that loot for me. You and your crew earned that bride money.”</p><p>“You must be Orlando Lynch?” Abelard asked.</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“Enough! We’ll work it out at VanDenRooz,” Fen interrupted, unconsciously channeling his father as he waved his hands for attention. “I got to reach Lannie. Is she safe?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Abelard replied reluctantly. “Raylon and I were tasked with rescuing you while Theo went after her.”</p><p>“Then let’s quit talking and get moving,” Fen said and spurred Tabasco into an easy trot, past the silent dogs who let her pass, to the north and VanDenRooz’s border.</p><p>As he left the ambush site, he realized that Lynch had, as claimed, come to his rescue. Many bodies littered the steppes, bleeding out and feeding the grass. Crows and other carrion birds were already circling overhead, waiting for the living to get out of the way so they could feast on the dead. Behind him he could hear Abelard and Raylon of VanDenRooz conferring swiftly with Istvan and Kibo of Lynch, planning a hasty salvage of every scrap of booty from the bodies. The surviving horses were being rounded up. The ones too injured to be saved were being mercifully killed. He patted Tabasco’s lathered neck. She was still agitated, but calmer now as well as tired. The dogs were keeping their distance, which also helped.</p><p>“You’ll get a long rest as soon as we get to VanDenRooz,” he reassured the mare. “You’re everything Mr. Obermatt promised when I bought you and I will do my damnedest to never put you through hell again.”</p><p>The mare snorted in disdain, as though she’d heard fine, lying words before.</p><hr/><p>“Why aren’t we going back to rescue Fen?” Lannie demanded.</p><p>She was mounted on a fresh horse. To her intense relief, Coppertail’s saddlebags had been shifted to her horse, and they looked unopened. The horse was patient and tolerated her and Brownie. Brownie was shaking, although not yapping. Theo had re-muzzled her after she snapped at his fingers and told Lannie not to ask again. As for Coppertail, someone had rubbed him down and he was now following on a lead attached to Theo VanDenRooz’s horse.</p><p>“Because I don’t know how many outlaws are chasing you,” Theo answered patiently. “We’ve got to get you safe into VanDenRooz. Fen’s in good hands. Abelard and Raylon are VanDenRooz’s best Hands. It won’t be long. In fact, there’s the border markers. We got a shelter close by. We’ll wait inside the border until Abelard and Raylon arrive with Fen and then move onto the shelter.”</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie groaned.</p><p>There was nothing else she could do, other than pay close attention to her surroundings in case she saw a chance for escape. Fen had drawn the VanDenRooz sigil for her and these men were wearing it. It was branded on their horses, incised into their gear. The wolves turned out to be huge, shaggy dogs. They wagged their tails and still looked like wolves. Mounted or not, she couldn’t outrun <em>them</em>, ride back out onto the steppes and look for Fen. Although she might know where he was. Crows were cawing overhead as they headed south, to where she and Fen had been ambushed.</p><p>They crossed an imaginary line that everyone in the troop could see, other than her. The land did not, Lannie thought, look any different, but Theo VanDenRooz looked momentarily relieved.</p><p>“We’ll wait here,” he announced.</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said.</p><p>Theo kept staring around, as though he expected someone to show up in a screaming fury. It must be, Lannie decided anxiously, whoever had told him about the Pearls of Orlov hidden inside the saddlebag. Well. She wouldn’t say one darned word about them, just in case she was wrong. Except she wanted to blurt out the truth and get it over with and where was Fen? Dead on the steppes was the likely answer. She couldn’t do one darned thing to save him so she petted Brownie, furious and shaking, and hating her muzzle.</p><p>They waited. It seemed forever but it was not very long at all, based on the movement of the sun, Lannie decided. Fen had been teaching her how to estimate the time by how close the sun was to the horizon.</p><p>Riders approached, a large troop of them, with equally large, wolfish dogs padding alongside them. She spotted Tabasco and Fen, safe, in the center. She spurred the horse she’d been given, startling Theo and his vassals, and galloped to meet him. He saw her and did the same and they met in the empty space between both groups, alone for a blessed wonderful minute.</p><p>“You’re alive!” she cried.</p><p>He leaped off his horse, helped her and Brownie down and kissed her in front of everyone watching. She had her arms around him, reveling in the feel of his body pressed to hers. Brownie was at their feet, shoving herself into Fen’s calves, threatening to trip both of them.</p><hr/><p>“I’m Orlando Lynch,” Orlando introduced himself. “My Hands and their crew saved HighTower’s ass. You must be Theo VanDenRooz?”</p><p>“I am. Should we point out they’ve got an audience?” Theo asked. He’d been pretending not to notice, as was everyone else present. Mental privacy was the only kind of privacy available at the moment.</p><p>“Nah,” Orlando said. “They both must have thought the other was dead. It was a near thing, too. We got lucky and spotted their trail through the grass.”</p><p>“So did the bandits,” Theo said dryly.</p><p>“Nah, that was a planned ambush,” Orlando said. “I sent you messages about outlaws chasing after them. Where the hellation were you?”</p><p>“Fen traveled a lot faster than I thought he would with Lannie and we were delayed,” Theo said.</p><p>“Delayed? What could possibly delay you for something this important?” Orlando asked.</p><p>“You’ll find out,” Theo growled. “I’m surprised my delay hasn’t shown up yet.”</p><p>“Are we in VanDenRooz?” Orlando asked. “That column of smoke is in the wrong location.”</p><p>“It’s in the right location,” Theo said with a grin. “Fen knows our borders. That column is a diversion.”</p><p>“A diversion? Oh, I get it,” Orlando said. “You sent strangers to the wrong place, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’ve got some crews out there, scouring the steppes for ambushers. They’ve slaughtered a few outlaws already.”</p><p>“Very nice,” Orlando said approvingly. “With the ones we got today and earlier, this part of Mars should be safer. Coin and booty too.”</p><hr/><p>“There’s the shelter,” Theo said, pointing out a low, thatched roof on the horizon. We’ll stay there until tomorrow morning.” He stood in the saddle, looking all around again, openly puzzled.</p><p>“Looking for someone?” Fen asked.</p><p>“Yeah, and I’m shocked I’m not seeing them,” Theo replied. His hands flashed, weaving a complex pattern.</p><p>
  <em>That fiancé must be more of a man than I thought he was.</em>
</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You’ll find out,” Theo said dryly, switching back to spoken words.</p><p>“What is he talking about,” Lannie whispered to Fen.</p><p>“Dunno. We’ll find out, I guess.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s Charlton,” Lannie said wistfully. “Maybe my brother cares after all.”</p><p>“I’m sure he does but Theo would have said if it was him,” Fen said noncommittally.</p><p>“Fen?” Lannie leaned over as close to Fen’s ears as she could get so no one would hear and whispered, “I think Theo knows about the Pearls.”</p><p>Fen stiffened. “He couldn’t possibly.”</p><p>“He said he had more than one reason to rescue me,” she whispered. “What else could it possibly be? It won’t be my brother.”</p><hr/><p>The VanDenRooz shelter was a low, whitewashed three-sided building, completely open to the south. The heavy thatch roof shadowed the interior and a thick hedge encircled it on the north side. Horses were corralled between the back of the building and the hedge and they raised their heads and nickered greetings to the approaching riders.</p><p>As they neared the front of the building, someone ran out to meet them.</p><p>“<em>Lannie</em>!”</p><p>She stared in shock, not understanding how she could possibly be seeing who she was seeing, scrambled from her horse, and ran to meet her cousin.</p><p>“Ulla!” Lannie cried. They flung their arms around each other and both women burst into tears, while Brownie circled them, trying hard to yap through the muzzle.</p><p>“Nice blonde,” Orlando Lynch said appreciatively from his vantage point. “Who is she and what is wrong with you, Theo, bringing a woman out into a battle zone full of outlaws?”</p><p>Theo snorted. “Blonde, yes. Nice, no. That’s Ulla Tisdale DelFino. That harpy was made for battle zones.”</p><p>Fen laughed. “I heard plenty about Ulla from Lannie. Theo’s right. Still, how the hellation did she get here?”</p><p>“She ordered my daimyo to give her permission,” Theo said with a grimace. “Browbeat him right in front of our entire family within seconds of her arrival.”</p><p>Fen and Orlando gaped openmouthed at Theo and at each other.</p><p>“Dawud and Kavan witnessed the fireworks.” He plunged into the story and as he did so, Dawud and Kavan came running from the shelter.</p><p>“We would have come out with Abelard and Raylon’s crew, Fen,” Dawud said. “Except we had to keep Miss Ulla here and out of the way.”</p><p>“A tough job?” Fen asked.</p><p>“Madre Winter, yes,” he groaned.</p><p>Theo added “Dawud and Kavan had the harder job. Miss Ulla wanted to surprise Lannie so I couldn’t tell you. It was the only reason she agreed to wait here where it was safe. Otherwise, she’d have been out there with us, flaying outlaws with her tongue.”</p><hr/><p>“Ulla, what are you doing here?” Lannie asked at last. She wiped tears from her face. “Theo didn’t tell me you were here!”</p><p>“I told him not to. I didn’t think you’d believe him and then you wouldn’t trust him and disappear again rather than come here. We’ve been going crazy since you ran away from the cathedral,” Ulla explained, wiping away her own tears. “I’ve been searching for you almost every single day since then. Charlton would have been here too, with Iolanthe, except that Zachery told him he’d lose his estates and banish him and Iolanthe from DelFino if he did.”</p><p>“With who?” Lannie asked.</p><p>“Iolanthe Deengar Orlov DelFino. Charlton and Iolanthe got married at the justice of the peace in Barsoom the day you disappeared and then married again legally as soon as they arrived at his estates.”</p><p>“Mama,” Lannie gasped.</p><p>“Alive and doing much better. I figured out that your father was poisoning her. That’s where I ran off to when we arrived in Barsoom, at the Great Hospital Apothecary, getting the tisanes tested when that damned sot insisted that you go to the cathedral hours early,” Ulla explained. She laughed suddenly. “I’ve got so much to tell you! And I brought you mail!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Here.” Ulla waved to Silas who’d been waiting patiently with a large leather bag. “This is my fiancé, Silas Avongale.”</p><p>“You have a fiancé?”</p><p>“And you have a dog!”</p><p>“This is Brownie,” Lannie said and bent over to give the dog crouched at their feet a pat.</p><p>“Lots of things have changed. Here’s your mail,” Ulla said.</p><p>Lannie took the bag of letters and sorted through them in tearful wonder. Letters from Charlton, mama, Shondra, Ulla, Iolanthe who was now apparently her brother’s wife. There was even mail from Walter. It would take days to read them all.</p><p>She looked up at Ulla, awash in fresh sobs. “You didn’t forget me.”</p><p>“No, we never forgot. Not for one single minute. We all had plans to save you from the sot, that’s what Iolanthe says he’s called in Orlov, only none of us talked to each other, so we didn’t work together. Me, Charlton, Walter, Iolanthe, even Dimitri Orlov, but you can’t trust <em>him</em> now because of you know what.”</p><p>Lannie took that in and gasped. “Ulla,” she whispered urgently, pulling her cousin close. “Did you tell Theo about the Pearls?”</p><p>“No. No one up here knows, including Silas,” Ulla whispered back. “Does Fenrick HighTower know?”</p><p>“Yes, he does. Ulla, he didn’t murder me when I told him about the Pearls or when I showed them to him.” Lannie’s face lit up with remembered joy.</p><p>“I can tell. You’re still alive,” Ulla said. “Are they safely hidden?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Keep them that way. I don’t want to know anything else about them,” Ulla said. “Not now. Is that Fenrick HighTower? RedHawk did a good job with his wanted posters. He looks sort of like his picture.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Good. I’ve got some things to say to him.”</p><p>Ulla marched over to the men on horseback, leaving Lannie standing — shocked and overwhelmed — with Silas Avongale and Brownie.</p><p>“Permit me to introduce myself, Lannie,” Silas said to her. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for months. Ulla’s told me so much about you.”</p><p>She numbly handed him the bag of letters and picked up Brownie.</p><p>“Okay.”</p><hr/><p>“Dismount so I can talk to you,” Ulla ordered, pointing a dagger-like finger at Fen.</p><p>“You must be Ulla Tisdale DelFino,” Fen said warily.</p><p>“Damn straight I am.”</p><p>“We need to get everyone in the shelter,” Theo interrupted. “The wind’s been shifting. We’ll talk there.”</p><p>“I’m not waiting one minute longer,” Ulla snapped.</p><p>“You’ll have to. It’s gonna rain,” Theo said. He smiled winningly. “Wouldn’t you rather stay dry and warm when you lecture Fen?”</p><p>“Fine,” Ulla said. “Get your ass over into that shelter, HighTower, and don’t you dare try to hide.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. They are a talisman of great power and enormous temptation.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ulla interrogated Fen about his intentions, pointedly ignoring the fascinated audience hanging on every word. Finished, she turned and stared out into the cloudy, gloomy day, then spun on her heel and glared at Theo VanDenRooz.</p><p>“I thought you said it would rain,” she said, pointing a dagger-like finger at his heart. “I’m not seeing any rain.”</p><p>“I was wrong?” Theo replied with another winning smile. He held up his hands in a placating gesture. “The VanDenRooz Hands will tell you that I’m bad at weather guessing.”</p><p>“They’re wrong. You’re terrible.”</p><p>“It could still rain.”</p><p>“It could snow too, considering how gods-awful this climate is. Lannie, are you sure you want to stay in this wasteland at the end of Mars? Silas said he’d grant you sanctuary,” Ulla announced to the entire, crowded shelter and the additional vassals of VanDenRooz, HighTower, and Lynch clustered in front of the building.</p><p>“It’s not gonna snow,” Fen called out from where he’d retreated to. “Too late in the season.”</p><p>“Uh huh.” Ulla cast a disapproving look inside the shelter at men and dogs close to the fire and draped in wool ponchos. She waved a disparaging hand at the additional men outside the shelter. They were already pitching tents and building additional fires, closely watched by more dogs, as if in anticipation of colder weather.</p><p>“I’m going to stay, Ulla,” Lannie said. As soon as Ulla had finished interrogating Fen, she’d cuddled up in his lap next to the fire. She smiled dreamily up at him. “In HighTower with Fen.” Brownie snuggled in their lap, looking smug and cozy.</p><p>“You don’t have to.”</p><p>“Avongale is a beautiful demesne and we’d welcome you into our family,” Silas added.</p><p>“I want to stay with Fen. It’s my free choice, unlike marrying that awful geezer, Rastislav,” Lannie stated. “I had plenty of time to get to know Fen. I love him. We’re going to get married.”</p><p>“If this is what you really want, I’ll agree,” Ulla said. “And if you, Fenrick HighTower, don’t marry Lannie like you’ve promised, I’ll do to you what I told your brother Ethan I’d do to him. I’ll cut your heart out and ram it down your throat until it comes out your ass. And because Lannie will be heartbroken if you’re lying, I’ll ram <em>your</em> heart down <em>your</em> throat a <em>second</em> time so you can enjoy tasting your own shit.”</p><p>“You’re invited to our wedding, Ulla. You too, Silas,” Fen said patiently. “My mother wouldn’t have it any other way and my Lannie should have family present for the event.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Ulla conceded. “Iolanthe didn’t and it was so sad but her whole family are crackers and threw her away because she limps. Which Rastislav caused, by the way, when he threw her and her pregnant mother down a flight of stairs. Are you really sure this is what you want, Lannie?”</p><p>“Yes, I really do.”</p><p>“Fine. Then we need to plan how to get you across that government corridor between VanDenRooz and HighTower. Orlov and DelFino are both lurking and hoping to catch you. Zachery’s not as desperate as Dimitri so he’s not as big a problem. Dimitri is desperate and he’s got John RedHawk working for him. RedHawk’s smart and thorough. He’ll figure something out.”</p><p>“Why are they doing this?” Theo and Orlando asked with one voice. The assorted Hands of VanDenRooz, HighTower, and Lynch, equally interested and in the shelter as befitted their status, leaned forward to hear better.</p><p>“Because Rastislav, daimyo of Orlov, is barking mad as well as violent,” Ulla said coldly. “Lannie jilted him at the cathedral, his pride was hurt, and then he started hearing voices from beyond the grave. He’s decided that only Lannie can give him the sons he craves. None of his other wives or doxies did, probably because he’s sterile. Orlov practices primogeniture because they’re raving lunatics, so if he wants his line to retain power, he’s got to father a son.”</p><p>“Are they crazy?” Orlando asked.</p><p>“Didn’t you listen to a word I just said?” The word “moron” hung in the air. Ulla waited, hands on hips and tapping a foot, until everyone got the message about her opinion of Orlando Lynch.</p><p>“Everyone in Orlov is completely barking,” she continued with great finality. “Except Iolanthe who married Charlton, Lannie’s brother. <em>She’s</em> sane as evidenced by getting the hellation out of Orlov. No one else I’ve met from Orlov comes close to sanity.”</p><p>“Got it. That explains Orlov. What about DelFino?” Theo asked. He was watching Fen and caught the tiny hand signal that said to publicly believe whatever Ulla told everyone.</p><p>“Zachery’s pride was wounded when Lannie shamed DelFino by fleeing from that debauched geezer drunk she was supposed to marry,” Ulla said. “He’s decided, Gods know why since most of our family disapproves just like they disapproved of him forcing Lannie into that awful marriage, that he’s got to kidnap Lannie and hand her over to that abuser because he’s chasing business deals from Barsoom to Easternmost. He was going to get them with Orlov and Lannie’s marriage. That’s why he got his own son, Walter, to marry Naomi Khan. Business deals from Barsoom to Easternmost matter to Zachery more than anything.”</p><p>“Walter married Naomi Khan?” Lannie asked, remembering a long-ago conversation on the train to Barsoom. She had a lot of catching up to do on everything that had changed since her eventful eighteenth birthday. Even more astonishing was learning about the slow, delicate courtship taking place between her mother and Ulla’s father.</p><p>“He sure did,” Ulla said with a sniff of disdain. “The most beautiful woman on Mars with a temper like an army of maddened wasps.” She ignored the badly concealed snickers, snorts, and eyerolls around her. “He agreed because Naomi came with a dowry of a dozen families of serfs and Walter needs those serfs to colonize raw land near Charlton’s estates.”</p><p>That got gasps of horror equal to the gasps about Rastislav throwing Iolanthe and her mother down a flight of stairs.</p><p>Ulla watched the flying hands and whispered conversations swirling around her — inside and outside the shelter — with enormous satisfaction. It had worked. She’d told the truth, or the official version of the truth. Nothing she’d said was a lie as Orlov, DelFino, Khan or any gossip columnist would confirm. All that time spent waiting for Lannie in the shelter with Silas and thoroughly discussing the situation with him had paid off. He really was good at politics. VanDenRooz, HighTower, even Lynch would despise Orlov and DelFino for what they’d done. They’d tell everyone in the Ennaretee, resulting in the region presenting a united front against Orlov and DelFino. These people would fight to the death to keep Lannie safe.</p><p>Silas was also, she suspected, very close to figuring out what Lannie had really done that had Orlov and DelFino in an uproar.</p><hr/><p>Later that afternoon, Fen got Theo off to one side for a private moment. They kept their bodies turned to ensure their conversation could not be “overheard”.</p><p>“<em>Where’s the GroveMaster? I specifically asked for him,”</em> Fen asked in handtalk.</p><p>“<em>He said he couldn’t speak to you out here,”</em> Theo replied. <em>“When we were packing to leave and wait for you here, he said he’d been </em>spoken<em> to. He can only speak to you in the Sacred Grove.”</em></p><p>“<em>Can’t say I’m surprised,”</em> Fen gestured back.</p><p>“<em>You gonna tell me what’s going on?”</em> Theo signed.</p><p>“<em>I can’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. We’ll see what the stars say.”</em></p><p>“<em>Okay. Did that harpy speak true?”</em></p><p>“<em>Lannie said Ulla never lies. She doesn’t have enough imagination. As far as I know, based on what Lannie told me and I’ve seen, every word was true.”</em></p><p>“Madre Winter and they call us savages<em>,”</em> Theo muttered.</p><hr/><p>At the end of the day, Ulla marched over to Fen, settling in next to Lannie at the far back wall of the shelter. Silas was close by, also as far back as possible, along with her maid, Natha.</p><p>The Hands of VanDenRooz had insisted that all three women sleep with an army of men and dogs between them and potential threats from the outside. It was ridiculous considering they were out in the middle of nowhere. It was also similar to the sleeping arrangements Ulla had experienced since Dawud and Kavan met them at the Robinsin hotel and gotten them to HighTower. Silas had, as was his right as her fiancé, insisted on sleeping next to her. Curiously, one of Dawud and Kavan’s vaqueros — such a strange word and she still hadn’t figured out exactly what they meant by it — also slept close to her and Natha and had since leaving Robinsin.</p><p>Fen looked up at her from his bedroll, tight against Lannie.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I saved two letters. Both for you,” Ulla told him as she crouched down. “There’s still enough light from the fire for you to read them. One from Charlton and one from Walter. I suggest you read Charlton’s first. I know you beat up Walter and he deserved it and I’ve no idea what <em>he’s</em> got to say to you.”</p><p>“Charlton and Walter wrote to Fen?” Lannie asked. Brownie looked up too.</p><p>“Yup. Sure did,” Ulla said. “Sweet dreams.”</p><p>She cooed to Brownie, then strode the few steps back to Silas, wrapped herself up in sheep-smelling wool and cuddled up next to him. Despite what everyone around them insisted and the calendar claimed, the weather did not feel like summer and Silas was warm.</p><p>“That harpy,” Fen whispered to Lannie. “Waiting until the last minute to give me these letters. I read them now and eat whatever your brother and cousin have to say or wait until morning and wonder all night long.”</p><p>“Ulla is not a harpy,” Lannie whispered back. “She doesn’t have any tact but she is never, ever malicious. She must have a reason.”</p><p>“Yeah, to be aggravating,” Fen said.</p><p>He sat up and slit open the letter from Charlton DelFino. Lannie’s brother. His future brother-in-law. The man who’d beaten him up in Cardozo’s livery stable over Walter’s attempted rape and pulled his punches when he did so, without hearing his, Fen’s, side of the story first. A man who, if Ulla was correct, would have been forced to sacrifice his estates and the over one hundred peasants who depended on him if he chose to save his sister over them. Charlton DelFino had chosen his peasants over his sister — as duty and honor demanded — as being the least cruel decision to the largest group of people, despite how it had torn him apart. Charlton lived every day with the knowledge that his plan to save Lannie — Ulla had been scathing when relating it —had failed.</p><p>He slit open the letter. It was easy to read in the poor light, carefully printed in painstakingly formed block letters. It looked like it had been written by a child who’d just learned his letters. Or like a letter written for someone who could barely read.</p><p>Fen held it out to Lannie in disbelief. “Why is he writing this way?”</p><p>“It’s the best he can do,” she replied. Like when she’d read his letters to her, delivered by Ulla, grief and shame stabbed her anew.</p><p>“Charlton has trouble reading and writing. I always teased him over it. I told him he was stupid. So did daddy. So did everyone.” She stared outside of the shelter into the gloomy, cloud-shrouded sky.</p><p>“I would not agree,” Fen said. “Not anymore.”</p><p>It was a quick letter to read.</p><p>
  <em>Thanks for saving my sister. Walter deserved your beating and if I had known what he did, I wouldn’t have rescued him so quick. Trust Ulla. Don’t harm my sister or I’ll kill you first chance I get. The Pearls are dangerous and should be sold. Take care of my sister.</em>
</p><p>Walter’s letter was more formal and more illegible.</p><p>“Why is Walter writing this way?” Fen asked. “To be insulting?”</p><p>“No, Walter has sloppy handwriting,” Lannie told him. “All his letters are like this.”</p><p>Walter’s letter was almost as succinct.</p><p>
  <em>Thank you for rescuing my cousin, Lannie. It is possible I might have misinterpreted the situation at the livery stable. Trust Ulla. Don’t harm Lannie or I’ll ensure you and HighTower fail in the conclave with future legislative matters and in the larger world with your business dealings. The Pearls are priceless and should be kept under lock and key. Take care of my cousin, Lannie.</em>
</p><p>“The more I get to know of your brother, and I never would have believed I’d say this,” Fen said, “the better I like him. The more I know of Walter, the less I like him. What would Walter have done if he’d managed to save you like he was apparently planning?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Lannie said sadly. “I thought I knew Walter and it turns out that I don’t know him at all. But I still knew him better than I understood Charlton.”</p><hr/><p>“Are you planning on keeping that gorgeous dapple mare?” Ulla asked. “She was a joy to ride on the trip from HighTower.”</p><p>Behind her, Kavan and Dawud rolled their eyes and “spoke” to Fen with their hands detailing how she got her way and rode Creamy Girl.</p><p>“If you’re going to sell her, I’ll buy her so name your price.”</p><p>“She’s mine, won fair and square,” Fen said. “She’s Lannie’s mount.”</p><p>Ulla sighed. “How about one of her foals?”</p><p>“We’ll see,” he said. “I’ll add your name to the list.”</p><p>“At least let me ride her again,” Ulla said, casting a covetous eye on the mare.</p><p>“No, I’m riding Creamy Girl,” Lannie said. “What does her name mean anyway? No one will tell me.”</p><p>Ulla bared her teeth. “I’ll let Fen tell you.”</p><p>“Now? In front of everyone?” he asked.</p><p>“They all seem to know,” Lannie said with irritation. “I think the <em>dogs</em> know. I’m the only person in this shelter who doesn’t.”</p><p>“You should tell her,” Silas said suavely. “You wouldn’t want your charming fiancée to be embarrassed, would you?” He wrapped an arm around Ulla. “Add my name to your list for foals too. Gorgeous, gorgeous animal. She’ll upgrade your herd all by herself. When you add in Tabasco’s foals, you’ll have the best horses in your quad. Pity you gelded Coppertail. He’d have made an excellent sire.”</p><p>“That wasn’t my idea,” Fen replied.</p><p>“So what does her name mean?” Lannie said. “Who told you, Ulla?”</p><p>“Um,” Ulla said, then shrugged in acquiescence. “The stablehands in DelFino. The prostitutes in Barsoom I talked to. They really expanded my vocabulary, spoken and gestured. The mare’s name is extremely crude.”</p><p>“Reg Sanderson was an evil man,” Fen began.</p><p>“I know that,” Ulla replied tartly. “I read the wanted poster. Your dad had it framed and mounted in the reception hall in HighTower to make sure everyone knows how brave and lucky you were.”</p><p>“All of it? It was gruesome,” Lannie said and gagged.</p><p>“All of it. Tell Lannie or I’ll tell her in front of everyone and embarrass her enough that she’ll come to Avongale with me and Silas,” Ulla said.</p><p>Fen leaned over to whisper in Lannie’s ear.</p><p>“Oh my Gods,” she said as she flushed with embarrassment. “I’m amazed they printed it on the wanted posters.”</p><p>“And, I’m sure,” Silas added cheerfully, “in newspaper reports up and down the Pole-To-Pole Road reporting Sanderson’s and Payne’s crimes. And official documents. They would have been forced to, to be complete.”</p><p>“Like I said, Reg Sanderson was an evil man,” Fen stated. “So was his partner, Killem Payne. They liked making decent people uncomfortable in every way possible.”</p><p>“We’ll have to rename her,” Lannie said.</p><p>“I’ve already thought of the right name,” Fen said. He told her his suggestion and she beamed. “If the mare agrees, and I think she will.”</p><p>“An excellent choice,” Silas said, watching Fen’s face as he gazed at Lannie stroking Creamy Girl’s neck. He glanced over at Ulla, a similar besotted expression on his own face.</p><hr/><p>“Handsome!” Fen cried. They were about to leave when one of VanDenRooz’s Hands arrived from a patrol of the steppes outside the border. He had Handsome on the lead.</p><p>“One of my lads found him and two other stray horses not too far away. I thought this one was yours based on the description, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Fen replied joyfully. He stroked Handsome’s neck. “Clever boy. You followed Tabasco and Coppertail’s trail.”</p><p>Handsome nickered and nudged Fen, then gave a pointed look at Coppertail and Tabasco nearby, watching them and nickering back.</p><p>“You want to join them, yeah?” Fen asked. “Tabasco and Coppertail missed you.”</p><p>The gelding nickered again, happy to be reunited with his herd.</p><hr/><p>The journey from the farthest shelter to the VanDenRooz manor house took several days. To Ulla’s great relief, they stayed every night in a shelter, rather than exposed to the elements. Silas took notes for building replicas in Avongale. He was especially impressed by the dense hedge circling a pasture behind the shelter, providing a safe, secure, sheltered location for the horses. Each rest period, along with mornings and evenings, were spent telling Lannie every detail of what had happened in her absence.</p><p>In her spare moments, Lannie read and reread her mail. As Ulla had told her, no one had forgotten her or written her off. They were heartbreaking to read; pages of grief, guilt, and despair over her disappearance and how the search had never ended. Her mother’s letters were especially painful. Mama had agonized over what had happened and begged Lannie repeatedly to forgive her for pushing her to marry the daimyo of Orlov. Mama could not forgive herself and would never forgive Albion for what he had done to both of them.</p><p>Plans were made to cross the corridor as well.</p><p>“RedHawk’s no fool,” Ulla said worriedly. “He’ll have something planned.”</p><p>“I’m still having trouble understanding why Orlov is spending all this effort and coin,” Orlando Lynch said to nods of agreement.</p><p>“Because they’re barking mad,” Ulla said.</p><p>“Even so,” Orlando told the group, radiating stubbornness. “That’s a lot of coin they’re spending when a daimyo, even a sack of shit like what you say the sot is, can marry pretty much as he chooses. There’s always merchants’ daughters.”</p><p>“They’re not as easy to wed as the Four Hundred likes to claim,” Silas stated. “Merchants know the value of their daughters and their dowries down to the penny and Orlov has little to offer them these days. Moreover, merchants, like all decent fathers, don’t like having their daughters abused or beaten to death. My Ulla is correct. The Orlov family is insane and desperate.”</p><p>“Thank you, Silas,” Ulla whispered.</p><p>“You’re welcome. I want the truth as soon as you’re able to tell me,” he whispered back.</p><p>“Yes, Silas,” Ulla said.</p><hr/><p>The VanDenRooz GroveMaster insisted on meeting Fen and Lannie at dawn. The message, delivered by the daimyo of VanDenRooz himself after their late evening arrival, said it was the most propitious time.</p><p>“That’s awfully early,” Lannie said to Fen. “Why is that propitious?”</p><p>“Dawn is the beginning of a new day. The sun grows in power most of the day. Besides, fewer people will be around to overhear us.”</p><hr/><p>Fen led Lannie out of the VanDenRooz manor house at first light. The sun had yet to show above the horizon but night was, as it always did, beginning to recede. The dimmest stars were already fading from view. The birds heralded the new day, getting up earlier than anyone. Fen had left the windows open to be sure they were roused in plenty of time.</p><p>“You can count on birds to wake you,” he told Lannie as they slipped down the dim path into the still inky forest wrapping around the manor house’s village. The lantern he carried gave just enough light, along with the slowly, slowly lightening sky, that Lannie didn’t trip.</p><p>The GroveMaster waited for them at the edge of the dense dark forest. He was a shadowy figure of a man, old and stiff with age. His beard and hair had turned white, catching the light from the lantern and the first streaks of sun above the horizon. His clothing was the color of undyed wool, ghostly pale and crawling with dark embroidery like spiders had decorated the cloth. In the darkness, his beads gleamed like dark drops of water.</p><p>“This way,” he said and led them into the forest and up a thickly forested hill. The forest did not sleep. Bird calls rang through the shadowy darkness, insects buzzed, and little frogs sang an eerie bass chorus underlaying all the other sounds. Lannie held Fen’s hand tightly, the other clutching a drab bag to her chest. She felt uneasy. She had never paid much attention to the village priest at home. This murky forest — surrounded by an ocean of unseen grass — felt alien. The trees murmured to each other, a sound distinctly different from any bird or insect she knew. She’d been told that each tree was planted over the body of a buried VanDenRooz citizen. The roots entangled themselves with the bones and the soul moved into the tree to watch over the demesne.</p><p>As they walked past old, old trees in the dim predawn light, she noticed that each tree had been carved. Names, she assumed, as that was what Fen told her. The carvings were thick with moss and difficult to read to learn who lay beneath the tree, dead for generations but never forgotten as long as the tree remained.</p><p>The path wound its way to the top of the ridge. Trees had not been planted here, giving a view of the vast steppes surrounding the Sacred Grove and the gradually lightening night sky overhead. The path dead-ended in front of a large, flat boulder, swept clean of terraformers and facing into the east. Not quite flat. There was a depression carved in the surface of the boulder, a wide shallow basin designed to catch rainwater or something else. The sun was moments away from cresting the horizon and illuminating the boulder.</p><p>“Put them onto the boulder,” the GroveMaster commanded. “So the first light of the new day may touch them.”</p><p>Okay, Lannie thought, but she did as she was asked and didn’t say a word. Fen had told her not to speak until the GroveMaster gave her permission. Like her, he remained silent.</p><p>She opened the drawstring bag and slowly, carefully poured out the Pearls of Orlov. They filled the basin. A few loose Pearls skittered away and she caught them, placing them back with their fellows. The rising sun lit each Pearl, thousands of tiny suns illuminated from within. Crystals of ice, the plumage of swans, clouds lit from behind, snow luminescent under the moons, as beautiful as the slowly fading stars overhead, the Pearls of Orlov demanded that they be admired, adored, worshipped. They glowed with light and life and it felt almost as though they moved on their own, shifting in the basin so each Pearl could revel in being seen.</p><p>The GroveMaster stared, gasped, his mouth actually hanging open in wonder. He moved toward the Pearls, his hands reaching towards them to lift them up to his face of their own accord, when he shuddered and wrenched his hands back to his sides. He spun on his heel, turning his back to the rising sun and the Pearls of Orlov so he could not see them.</p><p>His voice was rough, as though he forced the words out.</p><p>“Put them back into the bag,” he asked, a hint of pleading in his voice. “I must not see them again.”</p><p>Lannie quickly scooped the Pearls back into their bag. It was hard, so hard, to conceal them again when they craved being seen, being adored. They were gloriously beautiful and she had not seen them herself since the night she had shown them to Fen and admitted who she was and how she had stolen the Pearls of Orlov rather than leave such glamour behind. She had forgotten how they enthralled her.</p><p>The GroveMaster must have made some gesture she did not see.</p><p>“What are they?” Fen asked. “I can’t look at them without craving them. They tempted me. Still do.”</p><p>“Winter spoke truly to me,” the GroveMaster replied. “They are a talisman of great power and enormous temptation. You must take them away from VanDenRooz. They do not belong here.”</p><p>“What are they?” Fen asked again. “Why do they have this power?”</p><p>“They should just be jewelry,” Lannie blurted out.</p><p>“They stopped being jewelry a long time ago,” the GroveMaster replied. “Tell me what you know.”</p><p>Lannie and Fen told the GroveMaster everything they knew. Lannie added how people had reacted; from being overwhelmed to Charlton’s ability to see them as money to be used. When they finished, the sun had fully risen above the horizon, a thread of sky visible beneath it. The GroveMaster gestured for silence again and turned to face the rising sun. He stood there for a long time while Lannie and Fen waited patiently.</p><p>Her hand found his, drawing comfort from his touch. She hadn’t fully understood how tempted Fen had been by the Pearls of Orlov, how he had envisioned walking away with them and abandoning her out on the steppes. No wonder he had insisted that the Pearls remain hidden. Yet they still sang to him.</p><p>All around them, the Sacred Grove stirred as the sun rose. The chatter of birds increased as did the hum of insects. The breeze swirled teasingly between the trees, bringing the scents of life, soil, flowers, and rotting things that fed more life.</p><p>“The Pearls of Orlov were once alive,” the GroveMaster said at last. “They are the bones of sea creatures from Olde Earthe’s oceans brought here to Mars, a planet they could never be born on. As we have changed Mars, so Mars has changed us and everything we have set our hands to. The Pearls of Orlov, because they were once alive, have come back to life. Not a true life such as you or I or the living world around us, but the life of a symbol, a talisman. Everyone who sees the Pearls is entranced by their beauty. It is to be expected!”</p><p>He laughed suddenly. “They are entrancingly beautiful in a way that a gemstone can never be because stones do not live or die. Everyone who has ever admired the Pearls fed them energy and emotion. As the Pearls ate that life energy, they began to grow in power and demanded more energy from worshippers. Yes, worshippers is the correct word. The Pearls need to be seen and adored. They have great powers of temptation. Who, Lannie, besides your brother has not fallen under their spell?”</p><p>“No one,” Lannie said. “Iolanthe wrote to me about the Pearls. She said Charlton is one of the very few people she’s heard of who sees them for what they are; jewelry that can be sold and the money put to better use. She said that even in Orlov, where everyone knows how the Pearls have warped the demesne, they cannot bear to part with them, unless forced to.”</p><p>“They are sold sometimes,” the GroveMaster said.</p><p>“Yes, but my understanding is it’s rare.” Lannie frowned. “I’m only repeating what Ulla said. Ulla and Iolanthe talked a lot about the Pearls and Ulla told me what Iolanthe said. Iolanthe believes the Pearls grow in power when more of them are together. It’s exponential too. She also hinted that she has come to believe sometimes they — and she means the Pearls of Orlov — encourage a Pearl being sold because it allows more people to see them. That sounds crazy. Ulla said it <em>was</em> crazy but she never saw the Pearls. Iolanthe lived with them.”</p><p>“Perhaps not crazy,” the GroveMaster mused. “The Pearls of Orlov are not a demigod or a spirit but they are an object of great power. However, to continue to absorb power, they must be seen and admired. If Pearls are sometimes sold, perhaps the life force an individual Pearl absorbs as it is admired is transmitted to the rest of them. I would have to study the Pearls to learn more but I dare not. They would seize control of my soul and so I must refuse them. Take them away from VanDenRooz.”</p><p>“I’ve been thinking about what to do with the Pearls,” Fen said. “Every night since that first night when Lannie showed them to me, I’ve been asking the stars for guidance. You know how the stars give their beauty to anyone who looks at them. They don’t care if you look or not. They don’t care who you are. The stars are … indifferent to us and our needs. But they are beautiful.”</p><p>“The stars do not need worshippers,” the GroveMaster said. “They simply are. And they do not lie. What did they tell you?”</p><p>“That we should share the Pearls of Orlov with all of Mars,” Fen said reluctantly. “I’d like to sell them rather than scatter them about because HighTower needs coin desperately.” Lannie nodded in agreement.</p><p>“Hmm,” the GroveMaster said. “That Ringmaster you met and gave eight Pearls to. He said he would sell them, despite how he gaped at them?”</p><p>“Yes,” Lannie answered. “I don’t know what the postal clerk in Merreth or Mr. Obermatt in Eljinn will do with their Pearl rings. Charlton wrote that he’s already selling Pearls for the good of his estates.”</p><p>“Perhaps that is your answer,” the GroveMaster said thoughtfully. “Sell Pearls as you need to for the good of HighTower. Give others away as you did with the Ringmaster, the postal clerk, Mr. Obermatt, and your brother. That way you do not treat a talisman of great power as merely a source of coin. You are respecting its own wishes while making it available to the wider world to be seen, admired, adored. Selling or giving the Pearls of Orlov away will permit them to spread themselves across Mars as I think they wish to. Like the oceans of Olde Earthe covering that world. Something encouraged the daimyo of Orlov to bring them to the cathedral to drape you in them.”</p><p>“Uh, he wanted to use them as a fertility charm is what Iolanthe wrote,” Lannie said. She squirmed with discomfort thinking of how Rastislav would have used her, never caring once for her own desires like Fen did.</p><p>“It would have worked,” the GroveMaster said.</p><p>She shuddered and clutched Fen’s hand more tightly.</p><p>“But I think there was more to his decision than his driving need for sons. The Pearls themselves might have nudged him to do what he knew was forbidden; bring them to Barsoom and away from Orlov. He had been selling them, a Pearl here and a Pearl there or so your Iolanthe says.”</p><p>“Yes,” Lannie said.</p><p>“The Pearls of Orlov are a powerful talisman, but not an intelligent one,” the GroveMaster said even thoughtfully. “Sprinkling the Pearls across Mars might be the best decision for another reason. It is possible that when they are separated, they will gradually lose their power to compel.”</p><p>“Will that take long?” Fen asked, thinking about his own visceral reaction to the Pearls.</p><p>“Millenia, I would think,” the GroveMaster replied. “Once absorbed, psychic energy does not readily dissipate. The Pearls were once alive and living creatures do not ever truly die. They are reborn in other forms. But separated, they will not be so overpowering.”</p><p>“That’s true,” Lannie remembered. “When Rastislav draped me with the Pearls in the cathedral, I couldn’t move or even speak. Walter and daddy were frozen. But when I was trading a ring, I was able to talk and make my deal and the other person was able to speak too.”</p><p>“Then there is your answer,” the GroveMaster said. “The Pearls of Orlov wish to be shared so their beauty can be adored by all, rather than kept locked inside a box, unseen and unknown. Sell some, give others away, but widely and carefully. Not everyone who sees the Pearls will be able to control themselves as well as you have.”</p><p>“I didn’t control myself at all,” Lannie said ruefully. “If I’d left them on the cathedral chapel floor, none of this would have happened.”</p><p>“It turned out for the best,” Fen said and leaned over to brush his lips across Lannie’s cheek. “I met you, the girl I’ve always dreamed about.”</p><hr/><p>The daimyo of VanDenRooz eyed the three men standing before him in his office. He knew none of them and had to go on hearsay and what his own Hands had told him in confidence.</p><p>“Do you know why Fenrick HighTower had to see my GroveMaster?”</p><p>“No sir,” Istvan, Hand of Lynch said. “Got no idea.” His partner, Kibo, nodded.</p><p>“It could be related to why Orlov is chasing after his girl,” Orlando Lynch said.</p><p>The daimyo of VanDenRooz leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. His irritation was plain. He’d been told that Orlando Lynch wasn’t the sharpest knife in the Lynch drawer and it seemed to be true. Ethan HighTower claimed him as a good friend and that said everything that needed to be said.</p><p>“Why would you say a fool thing like that?”</p><p>“I dunno,” Orlando said uneasily. “I just get this feeling that everything is connected somehow.” He wanted to flee the daimyo’s scrutiny and forced himself to stand his ground. “None of this makes any sense otherwise.”</p><p>“Zachery DelFino and Rastislav Orlov are the proudest of men. Pride makes men behave like their brains were eaten through by terraformers,” the daimyo said.</p><p>“It does, Orlando,” Istvan said. He exchanged that annoying glance with Kibo.</p><p>Orlando trusted he correctly interpreted his Hands’ underlying message. Istvan thought it was time to shut up on this topic. Fen was his relative; any VanDenRooz relatives were several degrees of consanguinity further away and so did not merit the same loyalty. Time to change the subject.</p><p>“Yes, sir, you are correct about pride,” he said. “We sent messages home about Fen’s belt knives. He let us look at them. Creepy bone hilts, almost like they were human instead of cattle. Did Lynch pass you any messages about them for us?”</p><p>The daimyo showed his teeth. “They did. I asked the local branch of Internal Security in Robinsin for more information. It seems our Fen didn’t just slaughter two random bandits. He killed the two most notorious outlaws between Barsoom and Fintney. It’s a miracle him and his girl are still alive. That’s how Fen won those horses, Highstepper and —Creamy Girl.” The daimyo pursed his lips in distaste when he said the mare’s name. “The bone hilts are human bones. IS believes that they belonged to Reg Sanderson’s father.”</p><p>“After his death from natural causes?” Orlando asked hopefully. “To remember him by?”</p><p>“No. Reg murdered his father.”</p><p>“Nasty.”</p><p>“Yes, that’s Reg Sanderson. Killem Payne wasn’t any better. Here’s the rest of the story.”</p><p>Long before the daimyo finished talking, Orlando, Istvan, and Kibo were gagging.</p><p>“I was told, Orlando, that you think very highly of Ethan HighTower. Few of us around here do. Fen, on the other hand, is proving to be much more than the runt of the HighTower litter.”</p><p>“So we’ve been discovering, sir,” Orlando said. “Smart too. He doesn’t do what you expect.”</p><p>“This is true,” the daimyo said. “You or your Hands know why he wasted so much time traveling between Barsoom and Fintney? That girl couldn’t have slowed him down <em>that</em> much. Then suddenly, he’s traveling at a normal pace between Fintney and Darnay.”</p><p>“No sir,” Istvan answered for the group. “He wouldn’t talk about it much after we met outside your territory but then, him and Lannie were busy being talked at by Ulla DelFino.”</p><p>“Her.” The daimyo of VanDenRooz frowned mightily. “That harpy. Luckily, she’ll be leaving with them.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Look how sad he looks. He’s making puppy dog eyes at me. Isn’t that sad?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Zachery DelFino contemplated the view from his hotel room through a pair of field glasses. He had taken what the concierge claimed was one of the two best suites, on the fifth floor. Supposedly the view and the privacy compensated for the flights of stairs. Orlov had claimed the other suite. Unluckily, the walls were just thin enough that he heard the Orlovs scream at each other. Luckily, they were thick enough that he didn’t have to actually listen to what was undoubtably a torrent of abuse. Nor did he have to listen to Albion DelFino entertaining the Orlovs by enacting a play. The weather proved just chilly enough that he had to keep the windows closed.</p><p>The view was uninspired. The tiny hamlet of Robinsin wrapped around the hotel, surrounded by homesteaders’ shacks, their outbuildings, fields and orchards, and then the vast empty steppes all around, dwarfing human efforts to tame it. But there, on the northern edge of Robinsin, another small settlement was growing rapidly.</p><p>A settlement of savages in tents.</p><p>The whipping flags and pennants indicated, even at this distance, that it was not just a few Ennaretee vassals sent out in response to something Borden HighTower had done. All four members of HighTower’s quad were represented if he read the colors correctly. Then there were others. Many others. Zachery would not have believed that an idiot like Borden HighTower could command anyone other than his own peasants but it seemed that he could draw support from across the Ennaretee.</p><p>New men on horseback drifted in regularly. They pitched their tents, lit their fires, and socialized with the earlier arrivals. Then they drifted into Robinsin, visited the hotel, and dropped off messages from their daimyos for him.</p><p>Last on the list! Him! Messages for Zachery DelFino, as though what some Ennaretee lordling thought mattered to him, particularly when delivered in the most insulting manner.</p><p>Except they did matter. Silas Avongale was no fool. He’d correctly assessed the situation considerably earlier. Not only did farming yokels stick together, so did unwashed horse lords. If farming yokels and unwashed horse lords acted together in concert with dirty-handed mining lords, they would be able to control legislation in the Conclave. Zachery sighed and handed the field glasses to his personal assistant who promptly stored them within their protective case. DelFino owned multiple pairs of field glasses, heirlooms from Olde Earthe and Mars-manufactured, but even so, he didn’t want to spend the coin replacing a set.</p><p>He’d spent far too much coin already.</p><p>The message of the horde of armed men north of Robinsin was clear, as were the messages they’d passed to him. The daimyos of the Ennaretee would escort Fenrick HighTower and Yilanda DelFino across the government corridor. There was nothing he could do to stop them, short of hiring an even larger army of his own. Not only could he not afford it, he would have had to hire that army months ago in order to have them here on time.</p><p>Worse, he was stuck in a government corridor. The rules were different. Internal Security and the local sheriff held sway. They paid attention to their local demesnes and cared nothing for what DelFino wanted. They’d be delighted to — in the words of that uppity Internal Security major — apply the hot iron of the law to a hot zone risto. He could not risk starting a minor war thousands of klicks from home. He would not make it home. Someone here would make arrangements and DelFino would receive a sad, plausible story about his noble death.</p><p>Damn Yilanda. Why couldn’t she have abandoned the Pearls of Orlov on the cathedral chapel floor? Then he might have had a chance at claiming some of the Pearls for DelFino. But his own agents had failed miserably and so the Pearls, assuming she still had them, would belong to HighTower.</p><p>At least they wouldn’t return to Orlov.</p><p>Damnation. His own pride and greed had snared him like a senile rabbit. The Pearls of DelFino would have ensured his reelection as the daimyo come the Winter Solstice as well as paying for the costs of their capture. The value of settling the northeast quadrant of DelFino paled by comparison. That would be a money sink for decades to come, even if necessary and eventually profitable. He sighed again. That project he could still do and it would have to do. At least he’d have a manor house to retire to, after Walter built one. There would be many grandchildren to play with because dear Naomi was sure to produce more, whether Walter sired them or not.</p><p>The question was how to salvage the situation he’d put himself and DelFino into. He’d have to work with Borden HighTower if only to save face over Yilanda marrying into that wretched family. Zachery stared out the window again at the distant camp, a stain upon the steppes, then turned his eyes to the indifferent sky as he considered his options.</p><p>The concierge had been informative about Ennaretee culture. He had a business to run with his brother, the hotel’s owner and maître ‘d, and it wasn’t good business to offend DelFino despite how far away they were from Robinsin. The concierge hinted about other sources of information, if he, Zachery, unbent his pride enough to ask.</p><p>Hmm. Perhaps that was the answer. The luminously beautiful Pearls were gone. The coin spent retrieving them was lost. However, there were many pieces of legislation needing to be shepherded through the Conclave. More votes on his side would ensure their passage. Many business deals needed to be made, binding Mars together more tightly. Olde Earthe lurked far away but they’d return. Something dreadful was happening on that wretched planet and Mars needed to be ready for whatever Olde Earthe did next.</p><p>Yes, he could see the plan forming. This would work. Not as well as presenting the Pearls of DelFino to the family, but it would serve and might even salvage the election. He could fully justify every action he’d taken in hunting down Yilanda. No. <em>Rescuing</em> Yilanda.</p><p>“I must speak with Internal Security, particularly that Major Achebe,” he ordered. “Arrange it.”</p><p>“Yes, my lord,” his personal assistant said.</p><hr/><p>Dimitri paced back and forth, trapped in the suite with the sot and the ham. It would be over soon, one way or another. The triumvirate could not reach him, other than much delayed letters. He had little idea what they were doing to prepare for the inevitable. There wasn’t enough coin to spare that he could use the mayor’s skynet connection and ask. That petty bureaucrat had been adamant that every second of his skynet connection had to be paid for in cash and in advance and worse, to ensure the safety of the precious equipment, he’d run it while listening to every word that was said.</p><p>Dimitri wrote daily, but his news was all bad. RedHawk delivered regular reports about the horde of Steppes Riders assembling on the grasslands north of Robinsin. They would escort that bitch and the Pearls to HighTower and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. RedHawk had verged on insolence, telling him that he wasn’t going to die for Orlov and no one he hired would die either. Orlov needed a loyal army to fight that horde, not a pack of parttime mercenaries.</p><p>Kidnapping that bitch and stealing the Pearls would be impossible. Too many eyes watched her. Major Achebe had openly delighted in telling him how little power Orlov wielded in a government corridor thousands of klicks away from their demesne. No one in Robinsin depended on Orlov’s good will. To the contrary, the citizens of Robinsin could not afford to offend HighTower or the other three demesnes and aiding Orlov would ensure future punishment.</p><p>Dimitri glared out the window at the encampment staining the steppes like rot had set in. He would fail. Fail his family, fail his people, fail Orlov. Damn Lannie. Why couldn’t she have left the Pearls on the cathedral chapel floor? He’d still have Charlton as a friend, still have a close relationship with his sister, still have options, still have a future.</p><p>Thanks to that bitch, he had nothing.</p><p>He glanced over at Rastislav, awkwardly sipping tea while pretending to listen to Albion who pranced about like he was on a stage in Barsoom. He could still remedy that situation. When they returned to Orlov, Rastislav would face the family’s wrath while Albion languished in one of the dungeons. Afterwards, he’d personally drag Albion to Goryonov and watch Goryonov’s men break the ham into bits.</p><p>He might even be allowed to participate.</p><p>But in the meantime, he had to work on pleading his case to Lannie. If he was permitted near her. RedHawk’s suggestion was the only chance left to rescue the Pearls of Orlov.</p><hr/><p>“Your riding is improving by leaps and bounds,” Major Achebe said. “You no longer sit like a sack of grain.”</p><p>“Yes, I suppose,” John RedHawk replied and rubbed his aching lower back again. His thighs hurt too. “I appreciate your escorting me from one group to the next. None of the … vassals would speak to me without your presence.”</p><p>“Oh, they might. Steppes Riders don’t pay much heed to Internal Security. They consider us lackeys of the Martian government,” Major Achebe said. “They are incurably curious, however, and you are a curiosity. Speaking with you, discovering your motives, will permit them to tell fresh stories during the winter. Winters up here, so I am told, are endless and new stories are important.”</p><p>“That much?”</p><p>“Apparently. It passes the time. I am happy to see that you’ve learned that these men are not serfs or peasants.”</p><p>“No,” RedHawk groaned. “I learned about vassals from Lt. Smythe in Darnay. Getting back to business, I spoke to my employer again this morning. I reminded him he has to speak to Miss Yilanda himself. I won’t risk the lives of the crew I hired and they wouldn’t fight these vassals anyway.”</p><p>“Very good,” Major Achebe said. “My sources tell me two new demesnes’ vassals have arrived. Shall we introduce ourselves?”</p><p>“Yes. That way we’re less likely to get killed by accident.”</p><p>They threaded their way through the busy, sprawling encampment of men, dogs, horses, and tents; each demesne distinct yet interacting with the others in a complex web of relationships and obligations. Major Achebe had provided a list of the demesnes, updating it each day; each delegation consisted of a pair of Hands and their crew. A few demesnes sent two pairs of Hands. All those small groups added up. The encampment was noisy as well as reeking of men, horses, dogs, and the smells of whatever they were burning and cooking.</p><p>RedHawk considered what would happen when Miss Yilanda left VanDenRooz and crossed the government corridor on her way to HighTower. He’d persuaded most of the groups to let him approach close enough to speak with her. The story that Rastislav Orlov was madly in love with Miss Yilanda was considered ridiculous. But it was a good story and Major Achebe’s information explained why he’d be permitted to get near her.</p><p>None of these Steppes Riders anticipated any real trouble from him and they were right. He no longer believed he’d be able to kidnap Miss Yilanda and get away with it. He’d lay dead on the steppes the minute he tried anything, as would his hired men. That would also give the Steppes Riders a better story to tell in upcoming winters, so even if he restrained himself, approaching Miss Yilanda was still risky.</p><p>He no longer wanted to kidnap her anyway. The more RedHawk saw of Rastislav and Dimitri Orlov, the surer he was that handing over a green girl to those vicious brutes would destroy his own soul. But he’d sworn he would try. Mr. Parminder depended on him to see it through.</p><p>He swallowed stomach-corroding dismay. He’d fail Mr. Parminder who’d been the best boss he’d ever had. Mr. Parminder had not just been a terrific instructor. Mr. Parminder had hinted that he had been searching for a partner in the business. That chance was gone as a result of his failure to capture Miss Yilanda. Handing in his resignation to Mr. Parminder would be another admission of his failure. Assuming he was alive to apologize and resign but he could do nothing else. His prompt resignation might block some of the blowback Mr. Parminder would endure from Orlov.</p><p>Yet the Orlovs still lied. RedHawk was sure of it, equally sure the lie had ensured the failure of the investigation. It was as though Yilanda DelFino was infinitely more valuable than just another fresh young bride. But she couldn’t be. It was purely obsession on the part of Orlov, barking mad as they were. He’d proved it to his and Mr. Parminder’s satisfaction that Miss Yilanda fled penniless and in stolen clothes. Even as Orlov teetered on the cliff of bankruptcy, they owned the priceless Pearls of Orlov, safely locked away in the demesne.</p><p>Or were they? There had been those two real pearls in Weer. The pawnbroker’s behavior proved it. If two pearls left the demesne, could more have gone along with them? Could he have made a mistake with that part of his investigation? That drunk servant of Orlov, Clancy, had been so helpful and informative, so easy to find and so ready to talk when plied with more beer.</p><p>Too easy to find.</p><p>“RedHawk!” Major Achebe said, breaking into his thoughts. “Is something wrong? You look as though the sands beneath your feet opened into a pit.”</p><p>“They may have,” RedHawk replied in a hollow voice. He suppressed a shudder, feeling someone trampling over his grave. He’d leaped to a conclusion that felt spot-on because it fit his own notions about servant loyalty coupled with his distaste for Orlov.</p><p>“Put it behind you for now. We’re here. This particular group is from Kenyatta and Satran. Thanks to their deal with Shelleen, they are growing in influence and wealth.”</p><p>RedHawk groaned. “Shelleen as in next to Gish, relatives of Silas Avongale?”</p><p>“You are correct.”</p><p>“Let’s go say hello,” RedHawk said. He and Orlov had lost. Salvaging what he could had become the primary objective. Perhaps Miss Yilanda would tell him why she was so incredibly valuable. Why Orlov was completely obsessed with what seemed to be an ordinary young woman. What he got wrong with his investigation, because he had gotten something very, very wrong. Ice crawled down his spine as he wondered what else he’d gotten wrong.</p><hr/><p>“We have heard a great deal about you. It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Miss Yilanda DelFino,” the daimyo of VanDenRooz said upon their return from the Sacred Grove.</p><p>“Thank you, my lord,” Lannie said and smiled graciously. She sank into a deep curtsey complete with a flourish of Ulla’s borrowed fan and caught the flash of satisfaction on the daimyo’s face. Mama’s insistence that she learn all the polite forms of address proved prescient again. A good curtsey worked just as well on a daimyo as it did on actresses in a traveling show. It also concealed her own face. Fen insisted that even though VanDenRooz’s GroveMaster knew about the Pearls of Orlov, he would not tell his daimyo. His own oaths forbid revealing what he was consulted on in confidence. She merely had to keep her own mouth shut and not babble madly. It was good practice for the future.</p><p>The daimyo turned his attention to Fen. “HighTower is a member of my quad. For that reason, I would not have permitted outsiders to badger you. However, I would like one of … that mare’s foals.”</p><p>“It would be my pleasure, sir,” Fen said. “She’s getting quite a list.”</p><p>“Over dinner tonight, you will tell us all how you won the mare, the gelding, and your knives from Sanderson and Payne.”</p><p>“We were damned lucky, my lord,” Fen said. “Me and Lannie both.”</p><p>“Luck matters. You, Miss Lannie, and your escort will begin crossing the corridor at dawn tomorrow. Miss Ulla and her fiancé will go with you?”</p><p>“Yes, my lord.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>“I’ve spoken with your daimyah and your matchmaker, my lord,” Ulla interrupted. She’d caught a glimpse of Lannie’s nervousness, as though she was on the verge of babbling out the truth about the Pearls of Orlov stashed under her bed wrapped in her monthly cloths. “We’ll finish working out the details tonight. I’ll pay for my favor. Unlike other people like Orlov, I keep my word.”</p><p>“Good.”</p><hr/><p>The VanDenRooz cavalcade reached the halfway point in late afternoon. After months traveling with just Fen or him and Marvolo’s Marvelous Traveling Show, Lannie felt strange riding surrounded by armed men who all seemed to know who she was. Fen knew many of the Steppes Riders around them, but not all. She petted Brownie, snug in her arms, wiggling and yipping with curiosity. Brownie had no ulterior motives. Her dog cared only about her and nothing else.</p><p>Ulla and her fiancé remained close by as well. It still felt strange to see Ulla again after all those months apart. In snatched moments of privacy, Ulla told her that Silas did not know about her theft of the Pearls of Orlov but he was getting closer to the truth.</p><p>“Don’t say anything about them. Not even a hint or he’ll figure it out faster,” Ulla hissed.</p><p>“Okay,” Lannie said. “Are you really going to marry him? He seems nice enough but you don’t seem to love him like I love Fen.”</p><p>“I swore I would,” Ulla replied staring straight ahead, her face carved from stone. “Agreeing to marry Silas was the only way I could figure out how to get up to HighTower to rescue you. It should work out.”</p><p>Yair flashed before her, escaping once more from the little locked mental box she kept him in. He belonged to the past and they’d never meet again. She ruthlessly shoved the memory of his face away, still as clear as the day they’d met in the stairwell at the Great Hospital.</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said. “I didn’t know that.”</p><p>She glanced sideways at Silas, shocked again at how desperate Ulla had been to find her. She’d been so sure no one had cared other than because of the Pearls. Ulla, of all people. Ulla, who did her duty no matter what it cost her or anyone else, had tossed everything aside to search for her unceasingly while bankrupting herself in the process. Guilt reared up again and Lannie considered the Pearls of Orlov and what should be done with each of the thousands of individual Pearls.</p><p>“When we camp tonight, we’ll share a tent. You, me, Natha. We’ll talk then but carefully. Natha doesn’t know about you know what but I’m sure she suspects,” Ulla said.</p><p>“Oh,” Lannie said, welcoming the distraction.</p><p>“Your riding has improved. I never thought you’d get this good.”</p><p>“Thank you. Lots of practice.”</p><p>A pair of men on horseback approached them and the Steppes Riders surrounding Lannie stiffened and then relaxed. She stared curiously, keeping Brownie calm.</p><p>Ulla stared and then cried out, “Mr. RedHawk! I’m not letting you near Lannie.” She aimed a daggerlike finger at his heart.</p><p>“Miss Ulla,” RedHawk called back. His smile looked forced. “How pleasant to see you again. Greetings, lord Avongale. I am not kidnapping Miss Yilanda.”</p><p>“You do and you die,” Ulla snapped.</p><p>“This the one who’s been chasing after us?” Fen asked. “Orlov’s hired investigator?”</p><p>“Yes, he is,” Ulla said. “Mr. RedHawk is a smart man so don’t let your guard down for a second.”</p><p>“I must speak with Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk called patiently. “It’s imperative that I pass on a message from my client. I will not harm Miss Yilanda in any way.”</p><p>“Fen, maybe I should talk to him,” Lannie said. “I’ll be perfectly safe. Look how sad he looks. He’s making puppy dog eyes at me. Isn’t that sad?”</p><p>“Sad’s a good word for it,” Fen said with a snort. “Who’s the other man in uniform? Looks official.”</p><p>“I’m Major Achebe, Internal Security,” Major Achebe said. “I will vouch for RedHawk. He will not attempt to kidnap Miss Yilanda DelFino or harass Miss Ulla DelFino because I will arrest him if he does.”</p><p>“Fine,” Fen said and waved them closer. “You can have your say but we don’t have to listen.” He glanced at Brownie who to his surprise didn’t burst out in terrified yapping. Maybe the dog was getting used to strangers. It couldn’t be that the rat dog was smart enough to discern an actual threat from a stray leaf blowing by.</p><p>RedHawk stared at Lannie’s horse as he and Major Achebe rode closer and suddenly realized what he was looking at.</p><p>“Miss Yilanda. Are you riding Reg Sanderson’s mare? Creamy Girl?”</p><p>He couldn’t stop gawking. The information about Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne had been stomach churning and he’d wondered ever since he’d heard the story from Major Achebe who’d gotten so lucky and killed them. Every newspaper story he’d read had sung paeans to the unknown hero. He stared at the proof of identity prancing in front of him, his mouth hanging open.</p><p>“Her name is Dream Girl now,” Fen replied. “I won her and Highstepper fair and square.” He patted the handsome, black-stockinged chestnut gelding he was mounted on possessively. Lannie beamed from atop the dapple-gray mare.</p><p>RedHawk turned to Major Achebe, as long-ago conversations from Eljinn rearranged themselves. “You knew.”</p><p>“I knew.”</p><p>“You lied to me.”</p><p>“I had an investigation to conduct. Did you tell me everything about Orlov’s plans for Miss Yilanda?”</p><p>“Client confidentiality,” RedHawk snarled.</p><p>No doubt. That said, I have a question for Fenrick HighTower which must be answered before you speak with Miss Yilanda. It involves an open criminal investigation,” Major Achebe said. “Since we are in a government corridor, I have jurisdiction over any demesne including those in the surrounding quad.”</p><p>“I haven’t killed anyone other than outlaws who deserved it,” Fen said. “Like Reg and Killem.”</p><p>“You did us the most enormous favor,” Major Achebe said smoothly. “However, there is a question of an empty pair of boots for which I must have an answer. Remember, you are in the government corridor and not in a demesne so you must answer truthfully or be foresworn. I know where the bodies are for two pairs of empty boots. That would be Reg and Killem. Where is the owner of that third pair of empty boots, the ones I see tied to your liver gelding named Coppertail?”</p><p>Fen blinked, taken completely aback at the unexpected question. “That pair? I didn’t kill their owner. They’re Lannie’s.”</p><p>“Uh,” Lannie admitted. “They’re not mine but I didn’t kill anyone either. I stole them from the cathedral chapel closet when I ran away from the daimyo of Orlov. Along with a coverall.”</p><p>“You stole them.”</p><p>“It was that or run naked through the streets of Barsoom because I couldn’t wear that flashy ballgown,” Lannie shot back. “I couldn’t climb out through the window wearing that darn ballgown. It was too big.”</p><p>“Are you prepared to swear to this?” Major Achebe asked.</p><p>RedHawk seized his cue, hoping it would get Miss Yilanda to trust him. “I can vouch for her. The ballgown is enormous, unforgettable, and she gave it to a pair of Barsoom prostitutes named Winnie and Tevy. A maintenance man at the cathedral admitted that he stored his coverall and boots in the chapel closet. Without permission, may I add. I had to reimburse him for the cost to get the truth.”</p><p>“Thank you, Mr. RedHawk,” Lannie said. “I’ll pay you back.”</p><p>“Orlov already did, Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk said. “Are you satisfied, Major?”</p><p>“I am. I need the particulars later for my paperwork. HighTower!” Major Achebe called out. “A token of esteem from Internal Security for you in appreciation of your killing Reg Sanderson and Killem Payne. Catch!” He pulled something out of his jacket pocket and tossed it to Fen who caught it neatly.</p><p>Fen held it up for all to see, wreathed with smiles. “A bead!”</p><p>“You earned it.” The bead was gleaming gray and incised with Internal Security’s logo.</p><p>“All that fuss over a bead?” Ulla whispered to Silas, noticing the stirring among the Steppes Riders surrounding them and watching closely.</p><p>“They do that up here,” he whispered back. “A way of counting coup, measuring status. You’ve seen the beads the men wear.”</p><p>“I thought they were decorations.”</p><p>“Far from it,” he said, watching intently.</p><p>“And for you, Miss Yilanda, a small token as well.” Major Achebe reached back into his pocket.</p><p>“Another bead? I can’t catch it holding Brownie.”</p><p>“Not a bead. I will have to approach closer. With your permission, HighTower.”</p><p>Fen tore his attention away from his newest bead, made from real steel and heavy for its size. Internal Security rarely handed out beads, demanding proof when a Steppes Rider killed an outlaw. Under normal circumstances, by the time anyone got around to making an official statement, the evidence had rotted into the steppes.</p><p>“You may.”</p><p>Major Achebe spurred his mount and came up alongside Lannie.</p><p>“For you, Miss Yilanda. If you ever deal with Internal Security, show them the coin. It states that you have done a service for us. Carry it with you always.”</p><p>He handed over a steel coin. One side bore Internal Security’s logo and motto. The other side showed proud Ares, wearing an Internal Security uniform, handcuffing a cringing Olde Earthe.</p><p>“Thank you,” Lannie said. “Look, Brownie.” She held the coin up so the dog and everyone else could see.</p><p>“Does this conclude your investigation, Major?” RedHawk asked.</p><p>Major Achebe smiled coolly. “With this phase, yes. However, Orlov and DelFino are not yet finished with this business. The local treasury could use Orlov and DelFino cash so I will remain to assist the branch office in collecting any accrued fines.”</p><p>“I’ll remind my employer,” RedHawk said. “Speaking of which, Miss Yilanda. I have a message for you.”</p><p>“Go ahead,” Lannie said. She felt very safe surrounded by armed men who were all keeping wary eyes on Mr. RedHawk. He didn’t look nearly as dangerous as Ulla claimed he was. Yet apparently, like everyone else, he’d been chasing after her and Fen since she’d fled the cathedral. She had never known who pursued her, only that someone was, and now, here he was in the flesh and being so polite.</p><p>RedHawk steeled himself. “The daimyo of Orlov is desperate to meet with you, as is his nephew, Dimitri Orlov, your brother-in-law. Would you be willing to speak with them in private?”</p><p>Lannie gasped and recoiled, startling Brownie into yapping. Fen growled and his hand went to one of his belt knives. Every man around them tensed.</p><p>“By that I mean outside, Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk added, carefully holding up a placating hand, the other clutching tight to the reins and hoping he didn’t fall off his horse and get trampled. “With as many witnesses you require as long as they are far enough away that your conversation remains private.”</p><p>Lannie eyed him, while Brownie yapped hysterically.</p><p>“No,” she stated firmly. “I am not going near either of them, especially that awful geezer, Rastislav. He would have raped me in the carriage on the way back to his townhouse from the cathedral.”</p><p>“You don’t know that, Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk grimly soldiered on.</p><p>“Yes, she does,” Ulla interrupted. “I told her because Iolanthe Orlov DelFino told me that’s what he would do. She’s Dimitri’s sister and she grew up with that horrible man. He threw her and her mother down a flight of stairs in a drunken rage. Dimitri admitted that Rastislav would have raped Lannie in that damned carriage. The sot crippled his sister, killed his mother, murdered his unborn baby brother, beat his wives and killed at least one of them, beat up Tevy and other prostitutes, and you think he can control himself? Don’t you read the gossip columns? I’ve barely scratched the surface! I thought you were a smart man, Mr. RedHawk.”</p><p>“Thank you for your input, Miss Ulla,” RedHawk ground out. “I personally guarantee Miss Yilanda’s safety.”</p><p>“Lannie says no so leave,” Fen said.</p><p>“Miss Yilanda,” RedHawk began.</p><p>“Talk to me, please!” another voice called out. Dimitri Orlov, on foot, had quietly edged closer while everyone paid attention to RedHawk and Lannie. Brownie’s yapping had been a helpful distraction, for him.</p><p>“Crawl back into your hole, Dimitri,” Ulla yelled, making Brownie yap louder and the horses become restive.</p><p>“Please, Lannie, talk to me in private. I beg you,” Dimitri said. He held out his hands in supplication and then got down on his knees in front of riders and horses. “Don’t talk to me because the sot needs it. Do it for the serfs of Orlov.”</p><p>“I do not know what you are talking about,” Lannie said, the fingers of one hand tight in Brownie’s fur, clutching the dog to her, and helping to conceal her anxiety.</p><p>“Yes, you do,” Dimitri snapped. “You know what you did.”</p><p>“Yes, I do know what I did. I ran from that vicious geezer who pawed me in public! He would have raped me the second he got me alone,” Lannie replied heatedly. “I can’t trust anything you say. Your own sister wrote to me and told me to stay away from everyone from Orlov!”</p><p>“Iolanthe would not have done that.”</p><p>“She’s not Orlov anymore, Dimitri,” Ulla interrupted again. “You are so dim. Iolanthe married Charlton so she’s DelFino now. Remember Charlton? Lannie’s brother? Stay away from Lannie. Your former best friend doesn’t want you murdering his sister.”</p><p>“Ulla, do not interrupt me again,” Dimitri snarled.</p><p>“Do not speak to my fiancée in that tone of voice,” Silas said, inserting himself into the conversation.</p><p>“You are a moron and that harpy will geld you if she hasn’t already,” Dimitri replied. “Lannie, please talk to me in private. The sot won’t come near you, nor will your worthless father. Just me. I tried to save you from the sot, along with your brother.”</p><p>“Which none of you bothered to tell me about,” Lannie retorted. “I’m not going near you. I have nothing you want.”</p><p>Dimitri leaped to his feet. “You lying bitch!”</p><p>He lunged at Lannie and her horse, making the dapple-gray mare shy away. All around him armed men whipped out machetes and knives but John RedHawk was faster, closely followed by Major Achebe. They’d quietly dismounted when Dimitri was talking, readying themselves just in case.</p><p>They tackled Dimitri, catching him off balance and throwing him onto the steppes, churned up into mud by dozens of horses’ hoofs.</p><p>Dimitri twisted and screamed as he went down, “you betray me too!”</p><p>“No, my lord,” RedHawk screamed back. “You’re my client and I’m trying to keep you alive! These men will murder you. You are done here. She will not talk to you and she will never talk to Rastislav. You are <em>done</em>! Let it go!”</p><p>Major Achebe yelled, “I will arrest you if you continue to threaten Miss Yilanda DelFino. You are not in Orlov. You are in a government corridor. You do not make the law here.”</p><p>Dimitri twisted around and cried, “Lannie! Talk to me, please. You know why!”</p><p>“I don’t have anything you want,” Lannie screamed back, over Brownie’s yapping. “I never did! Everyone lied to you, starting with Rastislav and don’t talk to me about the serfs of Orlov! None of you give a darn about any of <em>them</em>.”</p><p>“Lannie,” Dimitri began again and stopped as RedHawk and Major Achebe dragged him to his feet. He did not fight them so they relaxed their grip slightly, enough to let him sag to his knees again in the mud.</p><p>“Lannie, please,” he pleaded, heedless of how everyone around him stared. “Speak to me.”</p><p>“I think I recognize you,” Fen said coldly. “We met at Cardozo’s livery stable. A coat of mud and shit suit you.”</p><p>Dimitri glared up at Fen, eyes filled with hate. “I pulled my punches back then because Charlton asked me to and I wish now I hadn’t because I would have found Lannie right away. But I did and so I kneel before you, begging Lannie to speak to me. Alone. My people depend on me.”</p><p>“You’ve been lied to,” Fen said dismissively.</p><p>“She is the liar and you are the fool who believes her!” Dimitri surged back to his feet and lunged again at Lannie.</p><p>Major Achebe and RedHawk threw him to the ground again. Major Achebe whipped out handcuffs and slapped them on and they began dragging him away as he struggled.</p><p>“A sap upside your head will cool you down,” Major Achebe shouted. “Last chance to cease resisting arrest.” The Robinsin sheriff and Robinsin’s two Internal Security men had arrived and assisted, not gently.</p><p>Dimitri sagged down into the mire and stopped fighting. He was caked with mud from head to toe and his clothes ruined.</p><p>“Lannie, don’t do this to us,” he wailed. “I will crawl on my belly to you if that’s what you want.”</p><p>“I don’t want anything from you and I have nothing you want,” she yelled back. “I am marrying Fenrick HighTower and joining HighTower and I will never have anything to do with Orlov. Ever. Go away.”</p><p>“Time to get you back to the hotel, my lord,” RedHawk said. “Where you can tell me what’s going on.”</p><hr/><p>Orlando Lynch turned to Theo VanDenRooz and said, “if you’d told me that I’d see a Hot Zone risto prince kneeling in the mud and begging, I’d have said you were a liar, yeah?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Theo replied, bemused.</p><hr/><p>Silas whispered to Ulla, “Unbelievable. I want the truth the minute you won’t be foresworn.”</p><p>“When I can,” Ulla said. “If I can.”</p><p>“If I figure it out on my own, will you confirm my theory?”</p><p>“No. Not if it makes me foresworn.” She gazed into his cool gray eyes. “Silas, I don’t think you should have bought Orlov debt like you told Dimitri.”</p><p>He smiled at her. “I lied to him and Zachery.”</p><p>“Good, because you’d be out a pile of coin.”</p>
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